Solitary Daughter
by xbellonax
Summary: What if Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange had had a daughter during the first war, who had to grow up without her parents, living among the winners of the war as a child of the losing side? This is the story of Cassandra Lestrange, a girl with the fierceness of her mother and the determination of her father, lovely and lonely, who belonged only to herself.
1. Prologue

Cassandra Lestrange's most vivid childhood memory was of her mother. At the time, she'd been a little girl just past toddlerhood, pretty and well-groomed, solemn for her age in the way some children of nobility can be. Her mother Bellatrix, tall and beautiful and powerful, knelt before her on the foyer of their family mansion, holding her daughter's face in her hands.

"Listen to me, Cassandra," her mother had said, "your father and I are going on a very important mission. Uncle Rab is coming with us."

"Is it a mission for the Dark Lord?" Cassandra had asked.

"Yes it is, my love," the older witch had said. "We're going to find him. We're going to find him, and aid him in his glorious return, and all will be well again."

"Am I staying at Aunt Cissy's?" Cassandra had asked.

At that, her mother had sneered. "No. Your aunt is likely at some party filled with filthy muggle lover Ministry members, kissing their feet in thanks for releasing that craven husband of hers. Those miserable traitors. You're to stay here. Your father and I made sure no one can get to you here."

"I'll be alright, mummy. Mimi will be with me," Cassandra had said, referring to the Lestrange house elf that had been tasked with tending to her needs since she'd been born.

"You're right," her mother had agreed, but she'd looked conflicted. "Mimi will take care of you. But you mustn't trust anyone else. Not Narcissa, or anyone who's turned their back to the Dark Lord in his hour of most need. It doesn't matter if they're family, or if you love them." Bellatrix had said intensely, trying to will the young girl into grasping the gravity of her words. "You can't ever believe a traitor of another to be loyal to you, no matter how trustworthy their acts may appear. You can pretend to if they're useful, but you must never ever forget what they are. Do you understand?"

Cassandra had nodded, and Bellatrix had smiled as she rose to her feet, kissing the top of her daughter's head.

Cassandra Lestrange's most vivid memory of her mother, also happened to be the last.

That night, Bellatrix Lestrange, along with her husband Rodolphus Lestrange, her brother-in-law Rabastan Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr. kidnapped and tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity in a failed attempt to find information about the whereabouts of the Dark Lord, for whom they'd been searching since his defeat, over a year earlier. The four were captured by a team of Aurors shortly after, and in less than a month, all were sent to Azkaban to serve life sentences.

The morning after her parents' capture, young Cassandra Lestrange, alone with her family house-elves, woke up to her home surrounded by Ministry officials, Aurors and members of the press, who were eager to report on the fate of the heiress of two of Britain's most ancient and noble pureblood families, now besmirched by its adult members' heinous acts in service of the fallen Dark Lord Voldemort.

Scared and overwhelmed by the crowd that gathered at the property gates, just outside the borders of the charm that protected the estate from entry by any persons not of Lestrange blood, or without invitation from a Lestrange resident, Cassandra found herself weeping in the arms of her favorite house-elf, her robes wet with tears and snot. For several hours none of them could speak, and all that could be heard in the house was the young girl's sobs.

"This is horrible, horrible, horrible," the house-elf said finally, rocking her Mistress in her lap, trying to soothe the child. "The young Mistress will tell Mimi what she can do to make her better, or Mimi will throw herself in the fireplace!"

"I don't know, Mimi," she said. "I'm afraid."

"Mimi will fight anyone who tries to hurt her Mistress Cassandra, yes she will!" The elf said. There was a loud boom as yet another spell cast by one of the Ministry people trying to gain entry into the property collided against the charm that protected the house, and Cassandra began to sob again. Mimi cried with her, upset at the terrible situation her little Mistress was in. They continued weeping as the house-elf helped the girl bathe and clothe herself, and as she ate the meals prepared for her, and as she was helped into her night clothes and they lay down down to go to sleep holding each other's hand, Cassandra in her bed and Mimi on a large cushion placed on the floor. The moonlight shone through the window, and if anyone had looked into the young Miss Lestrange's bedroom that night, they would've seen two small bodies crying quietly all night long.

It was another seven days interspaced with loud noises and small land tremors caused by spellwork before the Ministry personnel concluded that it would not be possible to brute force their way past the charm restricting access to the Lestangre property without causing the house to collapse in itself, killing the young girl still living in it. By that point, the reporters who'd been at the scene in the first few days had been retasked to cover the trials of Death Eaters being carried out by the Council of Magical Law. Cassandra, Mimi and the two other family house elves, Gibbo and Hux, had watched these developments anxiously from the windows.

From what the young girl could understand from the copies of the Daily Prophet that were still being delivered to the house by owl, she knew her parents were not coming back. She also realized that the people outside the house wanted her, although she did not know what for, and feared what they might do to her once they got her. Her world had only ever consisted of her family and the rather small number of associates their parents had allowed into their home, and now her parents and her godfather were gone, and her mother had warned her not to trust the rest of her family. She didn't know what to do.

On the thirteenth morning since Cassandra had last seen her parents, when she stumbled sleepily from her bedroom into the dining room, beside the copy of the Daily Prophet she found waiting for her at the table alongside her breakfast every day, there was a letter.

The letter had been written in block letters, which was fortunate, since she had not yet learned to read cursive, and was addressed to her, from her aunt Narcissa. Before opening it, Cassandra called for her house-elf, who immediately popped by her side.

"Did Mercurius bring this letter, Mimi?" Cassandra asked, referring to the family owl.

"No, Mistress," the elf said. "The owl that gives the paper to Gibbo every day brought it, and Mimi put it there. Is Mimi a bad elf?"

"No, you're a good elf, Mimi," the child said, and the elf puffed her chest. "It's from Aunt Cissy."

"Is Mistress Cassandra trusting her aunt again?" Mimi said.

"Mummy said we can't never ever trust her. Do we have to trust her to read her letter, Mimi?" The girl asked uncertainly.

"Mimi doesn't think so. If the young Mistress doesn't like what the letter says, Mimi will burn it!" The house-elf replied.

Cassandra opened the envelope and read its content aloud, sounding out the more complicated words like she'd been taught.

_My dear niece,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Your mother, father and uncle Rabastan were unsuccessful in the mission they set out to accomplish, and I fear you will not be able to see them for some time. Your uncle Lucius, your cousin Draco and I have been very worried about you, since we don't know whose care you have been left in. We would like to have you over for tea, to make sure you are well. The floo connection seems to be locked, but I can come fetch you at any time you desire. I wait anxiously for your reply._

_All my love,_

_Aunt Narcissa_

Cassandra re-read her aunt's words. Despite her fear, she knew she would have to talk to an adult at some point. She had food, and Mimi, and her books, but a child couldn't live by herself, even if she did have a manor and three house-elves. However, she was aware that the only thing protecting her from the world was the fact that the house wouldn't let anyone in. If she left the house, or allowed her aunt in, they could take her away. Mimi, Gibbo and Hux would fight for her, but they might get hurt and even be killed. If Mimi died, she'd be alone. She wasn't sure she believed her aunt would hurt her, but father had said uncle Lucius was a worthless turncoat who didn't care about anything but his own skin, and Draco was just a baby, so they couldn't possibly be worried about her. That meant her aunt was lying. Of course, her mother had warned her about that.

"Mimi, if I go outside, can they spell me?" She asked.

"Their magic can't go past the gates, Mistress. Just like they can't get in, their magic can't either," Mimi said. Cassandra nodded. She had a plan.

That afternoon, after bathing, putting on her best robes and letting her house-elf braid her hair intricately, Cassandra steeled herself to walk out the door that separated her from the outside world. Her arms and legs were shaking. Mimi had been trying to change her mind from the moment she'd explained what they were going to do.

"It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay," Cassandra said quietly, squeezing Mimi's hand for reassurance, and walked out the door before she lost her nerve.

The two men keeping guard at the outer side of the gates leapt to their feet and drew their wands as soon as they noticed the front door of the Lestrange Manor opening. They blanched at the sight of a little girl walking in their direction. She matched the description of the Lestrange's daughter, but they'd been unsure she was alone in the house, or even alive at all.

As she walked towards the gates, head held high like she'd been taught, Mimi invisible by her side, Cassandra worked to stuff all of her fear, her sadness and the million different emotions she'd been feeling the past nine days into a tiny little box inside her chest, which she hid somewhere dark and secret. She would be fierce like her mother and steady like her father. Even if she was a little girl, she was also a Lestrange. She wouldn't let anyone see her fear.

She stopped walking three steps from the gate, facing the men who were eyeing her warily. She willed herself not to twitch, standing perfectly still and maintaining a neutral expression.

"I am Cassandra Zeta Lestrange, heiress of the Lestrange family and member of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black," Cassandra said, like she'd been instructed numerous times by her father. The men stared at her diminutive height for a few seconds, before one of them stepped forward decisively.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, and my associate, Mr. Gawain Robards," the man who'd stepped forward said. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Lestrange." Neither of them bowed, which they should have according to her lessons, but she figured she shouldn't say anything. She had questions she needed to ask, and it wouldn't do well to start out by antagonizing the men she wanted answers from. Adults didn't appreciate being corrected by children.

"Did you fight against the Dark Lord, Mr. Shacklebolt?" She asked, having decided beforehand directness would be the best approach.

"Yes, I did," the man said.

She'd expected that answer.

"Have you ever betrayed anyone?" Cassandra asked. The two men seemed startled by the question, but she had to know in order to obey her mother. She'd read in The Prophet that the Dark Lord had lost the war, so it made sense that the people trying to get her were the ones who'd won. But if they were traitors, she couldn't trust them not to hurt her, even if they gave her their word that they wouldn't. If the man answered yes, she would go back inside and wait for the ones who kept guard at night to arrive, and ask them the same questions.

"I lied to my parents a few times as a kid, to avoid trouble and such," he said measuredly, "and I've lied when I had to in order to do my job, but I've never betrayed anyone."

She had also lied to her parents a few times when she got caught doing something she oughtn't be doing, and those lies hadn't seemed like betrayal to her. Her mother said she could always tell when she was lying, and she seemed more amused than angry whenever Cassandra spun tales of ghosts and gnomes and other magical creatures to explain a broken vase or stained robes. If those had been betrayals, the girl reasoned, surely her mother wouldn't have let her get away with it. She would've been disinherited, like great-aunt Walburga did with her blood traitor son. Being a liar, Cassandra Lestrange concluded, wasn't the same as being a traitor.

"Alright. I got a letter today," she said. "Would you like to see it?"

"Sure," Mr. Shacklebolt said. "Do you have it with you?"

"Mimi," Cassandra called out, and the elf popped between the two men, just like they'd discussed.

"Merlin!" The man introduced as Mr. Robards said, jumping, and Cassandra had to work to not to snicker. Mr. Shacklebolt accepted the letter from the elf, who immediately disappeared again. The two wizards read it, not seeming surprised or bothered by its content.

"I see. Do you know what it says?" Mr. Shacklebolt asked. She nodded. "Would you like us to take you to your aunt?"

Cassandra's eyes narrowed. If they weren't surprised by the letter, it meant they had already known about it. Her aunt really was working with them, and lying to her. Even if she'd already expected it, the betrayal hurt. Her mother had been right about Aunt Cissy.

"No, thank you. But I would like to owl her back," she said calmly. "Would you write the letter for me, Mr. Shacklebolt? I haven't been taught how to yet."

"If I do, will you let us inside?" He asked.

"No," she said. "But if you do, you can ask me a question, and I promise on my magic I'll tell you the truth." It was a vow she'd heard adults make before, and she believed it was meaningful.

"We have a deal, Miss Lestrange," the man answered.

"Mimi," she said, and again the elf popped between the men, this time bringing a writing desk, chair, parchment, quill and ink with her. When Mr. Shacklebolt sat down, the elf made herself invisible and retook her place behind Cassandra.

"Dictate away, Miss Lestrange." He said.

"Dear Aunt Narcissa," she started. In the letter, Cassandra told her aunt she'd read about what happened to her parents and her godfather, and that she was safe and taken care of by the house-elves. She declined her aunt's invitation for tea, saying she was too sad and scared to leave the house.

As she finished her dictation, Cassandra could see the corner of Mr. Shacklebolt's mouth curving up on an amused smile. Good. That meant he understood the meaning of her words. She had sat by her father's side on numerous occasions as he wrote his own letters in his study, marveling at the mysterious and duplicitous world of adults, where one used nice words to communicate angry feelings, and the language she was using had been entirely lifted from her father's communications. Her parents may be gone, but they had given her many gifts throughout her young life, and she was going to use as many of them as she could to keep herself safe.

"Could you summon your elf again, Miss Lestrange, so she can take the letter and your belongings inside?" Mr. Shacklebolt said, and at her call, Mimi did exactly that.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Shacklebolt," Cassandra said.

"You're welcome," he answered. "May I ask you my question now?"

She nodded.

"Is there anyone else in the house with you - perhaps a family friend your parents asked to take care of you?"

"No," she said truthfully. "Only me, Mimi, Hux and Gibbo, our house-elves."

Mr. Shacklebolt accepted her response without comment, but she was not sure he believed her. If he chose to think she was lying, she reasoned, there wasn't much she could do to convince him otherwise. Knowing Mimi would be at the aviary giving the letter to Mercurius for delivery, Cassandra excused herself and walked back into the house.

The answer to her polite defiance came two days later, not by letter, but through a loud booming voice that Cassandra swore could have woken the dead.

"MISS CASSANDRA LESTRANGE, PLEASE COME TO THE GATES. YOUR AUNTS AND A MINISTRY REPRESENTATIVE ARE HERE FOR YOU," the voice shouted.

Mimi immediately popped in front of her, looking frantic. Before the elf could get a word in, Cassandra grabbed her hand, reassuring her.

"It's alright, Mimi. They can't get in and I'm not going out. I'm just going to talk to them," she said. The house elf nodded, calming down. The two of them made their way out of the house, Mimi invisible a step behind her young Mistress.

Narcissa Malfoy stood outside the gates, alongside a square-jawed, slim, serious looking witch and a woman whose appearance, for a moment, made Cassandra's heart skip, due to her resemblance to the girl's mother. They had the same aristocratic face and tall, imposing height. The only obvious differences, she noted, were the woman's hair color, a light brown to Bellatrix's jet black, and a softness in her eyes Cassandra had never seen in her mother's. The girl stood in front of the three women, waiting for an introduction.

"Hello, darling," her aunt Narcissa said. "It's good to see you, you look well. These are Amelia Bones and Andromeda... Tonks. Ms. Bones works for the Ministry of Magic and Mrs. Tonks used to be a member of the Black family, before she married off. We're here to talk about how you've been. We've all been worried about you all alone in the house."

"For the love of Circe, Narcissa," the woman who looked like her mother said, to which her aunt scowled disapprovingly. "I rather think she can handle the truth, if that letter is any indication. Amelia, may I?"

The Ministry witch nodded, and the other woman crouched so she stood at the girl's height, looking her in the eyes. "Hello, Cassandra. My name is Andromeda, and you're my niece. I don't know if you've heard of me, but I'm your mother and Narcissa's sister. I was disowned when I married my husband Ted, because he's a muggleborn. I'm here today with Narcissa because the Ministry has failed in securing you, so they thought you might come voluntarily with one of us."

"You're in the family tapestry by mother's side, but great-aunt Walburga burned your face off," Cassandra replied.

"I bet she did," Andromeda said, smiling. "Do you understand why the Ministry has been trying to get you?"

"I'm a child, and children can't live by themselves," the girl said. She wasn't sure that was their only motive, but she knew it was at least one of them.

"That's right," Andromeda said. "The Ministry thought you'd be more amenable to your aunt Narcissa, since we'd never met, so she got to write to you first. But I'd like to tell you that I've wanted to meet you for a very long time, and it would be a pleasure to have you in my family. I have a daughter a few years older than you, and she's always wanted a sister."

Cassandra looked at her other aunt. "Are you here to ask me to live with you too, aunt Cissy?"

"Yes I am, my darling," the witch replied. "Your uncle Lucius and I are ready to take you in, and would gladly raise you to be the outstanding young lady I've always known you can be, as I'm sure your parents would want."

"My parents are in Azkaban," the girl said. Her aunt nodded gravely. Cassandra didn't know where Azkaban was, but it didn't sound like a place anyone would want to be at. She turned to the Ministry witch. "Ms. Bones, are they ever coming back?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Lestrange, but no. Your parents committed very serious crimes, and they'll spend the rest of their lives paying for them in Azkaban," the witch said seriously, although Cassandra could tell she was trying to be kind. "That's why a decision in regards to your custody must be made. Both your aunts have offered to be your guardian, and the Ministry has concluded that both are fit to assume that role, so I leave that choice up to you. Once you make that choice, I will ask you to allow us access into the property, so your belongings can be packed and we can clear the house of Dark artifacts and other dangerous things. So I ask you, who do you pick to raise you?"

Cassandra pictured her parents, and wished more than ever that they had never left her. Never, never had she felt so alone. She wanted badly to live with the kind aunt she had just met, and would have even been happy once to live with her aunt Narcissa, but she knew that neither could be done now. She couldn't trust Aunt Cissy, and if her mother had never talked about her other sister, Cassandra didn't think she would like her to raise her daughter. She closed her eyes and thought about her options.

"Ms Bones, if I go with aunt Narcissa, or aunt Andromeda, I have to live with their families," she said. "I don't want to become a Malfoy, or a Tonks. I want to stay in my house, and be a Lestrange."

The witch sighed. "For all that I understand your wishes, child, I cannot abide by them. You must have a guardian. If not your aunts, than another relative. As the last scion of the Lestrange family, this house belongs to you, so you could ask your guardian to move in, but ultimately it would be up to them, as the adult in charge."

"I have a manor, and three house elves. And I can get out, but you can't get in. So it is up to me. I'm not leaving. Grandpa Cygnus can be my guardian, or Great-aunt Walburga, I don't care. I'm going to stay in my house," Cassandra said finally, and grabbed Mimi's hand, the signal for the elf to apparate them into the house.

As eventually reported by The Daily Prophet, the siege of Lestrange Manor lasted for thirty-two days. After failing to remove the charm denying entry in the first couple of weeks, various Ministry workers and close relatives tried to ask, bribe, lie, negotiate and intimidate the young Lestrange heiress into leaving the property and accepting the guardianship of her relatives, to no avail. It wasn't until her grandfather, Cygnus Black III, made a blood vow swearing to raise his granddaughter in her family home, that the child allowed anyone in.


	2. Part 1, Chapter 1

Cassandra sat down in the empty train compartment, her trunk tucked away neatly beneath her seat. Like every year, she and her grandfather had arrived at platform nine and three quarters early, allowing them to avoid the crowd of late arrivals as well as the scorn Cassandra was used to receiving whenever walking about in public. At thirteen, the girl struck an uncanny resemblance to her infamous mother. With long, thick, shining black hair that cascaded in waves down her torso, smooth pale skin, and the delicate but strong facial features that were a mark of the Black family, her looks should've garnered her admiration. Instead, most people's reaction to her appearance fell somewhere between fear and hatred.

Because of that, the young witch both loved and loathed the end of summer holidays. She looked forward to spending time among her peers, the few wizards in Britain who liked or disliked her not based solely on her parentage, but because they had come to know Cassandra Lestrange in her own right. On the other hand, a new school year meant a new slew of first years, who this year would most likely include an eleven year boy whose name made her stomach twist in knots. She took a deep breath, centering herself. If the boy, or anyone else became a problem, she would deal with them.

Hogwarts had no shortage of students with family members who'd been slain by her parents' side of the war, and she was used to spending the first couple months of term in constant vigilance, lest someone decided to settle a score. She'd taken to carrying a bezoar on her person at all times since receiving a box of poisoned candy for Valentine's Day on her first year from an "anonymous admirer", and she had more dueling practice as a third year than most students preparing for their N.E.W.T.S.

Some time later, the door to her compartment slid open, and a familiar face appeared.

"There you are," the boy said, walking in. "How long have you been in here? You're always so bloody early."

"Spares me from having to elbow the riff-raff," Cassandra replied, and the two teenagers hugged warmly in greeting.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Lestrange. If I had to spend one more day in the company of my idiot cousins, I might've stabbed myself in the eye with my wand," the young wizard said, taking the seat opposite his best friend.

"I suppose the brain damage would probably put you at the same intelligence level as the rest of the Puceys. You'd finally belong, Adrian," she said, smiling.

"Perish the thought," the young wizard replied, putting his trunk away in a corner.

The train started moving, and Cassandra turned to the window, watching the station disappear.

Another boy walked in and slid the compartment door shut behind him.

"Hey Adrian, Cassandra."

"Nice to see you, Flint," she said.

"Or shall we address you exclusively as captain now?" Adrian asked cheekily. "Oh great leader, he the possessor of all Quidditch wisdom..."

"Don't even start," the newly-appointed Quidditch captain proclaimed, pointing at Adrian. He threw himself on the seat by younger boy's side. "I've already been approached by six different second-years asking when tryouts are going to be. We're not even in the castle yet!"

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Marcus," Cassandra said, chuckling with Adrian at their captain's distress.

"Anyways, I figured I'd sit with the two of you, since people are usually too scared of Lestrange to bother her - no offense, Cassandra."

"None taken," she replied easily.

The trio talked about their summers and their class loads for the upcoming school year as the train sped through the British countryside. After a couple hours, Lee Jordan, a Gryffindor third year, slid back their door and said, "DADA bets, anyone?"

"Not me," Marcus replied.

Cassandra and Adrian looked at each other. This was one of their favorite games.

"Ok," Adrian started. "So, first year the winner was 'forced to flee the castle after trying to kill students in a convoluted plot,' and second year, 'disappeared without clues after Christmas break.' I'm going with… fired for sleeping with a seventh year."

"All right," the budding bookie said, jotting the Slytherin boy's bet down on a piece of parchment, that he held on top of a box in which he deposited the galleon Adrian handed him. Cassandra thought she saw a furry arachnid leg peeking out of the box, but didn't say anything. The boy had probably instructed the animal to protect the galleons collected for the annual wager placed by students on the terrible fate that usually fell upon the wizard hired to be their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Smart. "What about you, Lestrange?"

"I'm putting a galleon on killed by an acromantula in the Forbidden Forest," she said, taking inspiration from Lee's choice in guardian animal.

"Nice. I don't think we got that one yet," Jordan said, looking over the parchment. "Nice doing business with you."

As the door was closed, Cassandra turned to her friend. "Teacher-student affair, Adrian? Really? How pedestrian."

"Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest?" The boy countered.

"What? There's a whole colony of them there. Klaus kept bringing me their dead babies as gifts last year, took me forever to convince him having dead spiders the size of a small dog dropped on me from the sky was not my idea of a nice gift without hurting his feelings," she explained.

Adrian shuddered. "Where is your creepy pet, by the way?"

"What are you, a muggle?" Cassandra chided. "Since he's bonded to me, Klaus is my familiar, not a pet. And he's making his own way to the castle. He'd never forgive me if put him in a cage."

"You mean he'd peck your eyes out," Adrian replied.

"He wouldn't seriously injure me," Cassandra protested. "At most, he might rip some of my hair out. Ravens are brilliant creatures, but they can be terribly temperamental. And you know how vengeful Klaus is, so I'd be careful about insulting him where he might hear you."

"Yeah, we all remember the Weasley incident of '90." Marcus said, and all three teenagers laughed at the memory of the twin Gryffindor pranksters running through the great hall trying to escape the conspiracy of ravens lead by Klaus pursuing the duo, violently pecking at them before Professor McGonagall managed to stun the birds.

"Well, it's not my fault they took my warning about Klaus as a challenge. They had it coming, kidnapping and turning him red and gold like they did. It took days for that spell to wear off," Cassandra said.

"He did try to eat their brother's rat," Marcus said.

"I would've bought him another one," Cassandra said defensively. Honestly, it was a mystery how the rodent had survived so long with all the owls and cats roaming the castle.

"On the subject of Weasleys, can you believe Charles chose not to go pro?" Adrian said.

"Talk about wasted potential," Marcus said, proceeding to go on about the pool of mediocre players Oliver Wood, the new Gryffindor captain, would have to pick his new seeker, and how this year's cup was theirs to lose. Meanwhile, Cassandra and Adrian exchanged amused looks. That was not why Adrian had brought up that particular topic.

Despite their opposite House and familial loyalties, the older Weasley brother had been the star of every single romantic fantasy Cassandra had had since the beginning of second year, when after a Slytherin-Gryffindor quidditch match, shirtless, muscular and sweaty Gryffindor captain Charlie Weasley had shaken her hand and complimented her on her skill as a beater. '_Vicious arm you got there, Lestrange._' Those six words had gotten her through endless hours of Binn's dull lectures on the goblin rebellions.

And she wasn't the only one. During the last few months of school before summer holidays, Adrian Pucey had had a sexuality crisis brought about by the realization that his admiration of his fellow quidditch players' physiques wasn't exactly platonic. Charlie Weasley had played a big part in that. He and Cassandra had bonded over the impossibility of acting on their shared crush.

The compartment door slid open yet again; Cassandra scowled, considering if the detention she might get for magically locking it would be worth the peace she and her friends would enjoy for the rest of the ride. At the sight of her little cousin and two of his friends, she decided the answer was yes.

"Cousin," the pale boy said, slightly bowing his head in acknowledgment.

"Draco," Cassandra answered neutrally. She had no animosity towards the boy, seeing him sporadically in events her grandfather thought fit she attend, but she'd found his almost desperate need for approval and easy-to-wound ego tiresome. Seeing her younger cousin spiral whenever someone contradicted his overinflated perception of his family's - and by extension, his own - greatness was an unpleasant experience for someone who'd been forced to grow a skin as thick as dragonhide as a little girl simply to be able to go out in public without being undone by the looks and words grown wizards would throw at her once they recognized her.

"Mother suggested I reach out to you once I was sorted into Slytherin, but I saw no need to wait," he said.

Of course you didn't, Cassandra mused.

"I hardly think there's anything between the train and the Slytherin table one would need advice with," she answered. Draco looked disconcerted for a moment.

"They're saying Harry Potter is in the train, in one of the compartments at the back," the boy said.

"Ooh," she said. The boy-who-lived would certainly be the kind of celebrity her cousin would be interested in and intimidated by, which would most likely cause him to fall back on the arrogant attitude his father used as both a shield and a weapon. Unless Harry Potter was a complete pushover, which would be incongruent with his fame as the only survivor of the killing curse and the reason for the Dark Lord's downfall, there was no chance that meeting would end well. "And you plan on introducing yourself to him?"

"It would be only right that a scion from a pureblood wizarding family offers to help him introduce himself to our society," Draco said, squaring up his shoulders. "No one knows what he's been doing for the past ten years, after all. Who knows what he might've been taught."

"I see," Cassandra replied. If her cousin wanted to embarass himself by assuming that a half-blood wizard whose late family had been murdered by the Dark Lord for opposing his agenda of pureblood supremacy would gladly accept the guidance of a Malfoy, she wasn't going to stop him. "Good luck."

Draco nodded to his cousin, and all three boys retreated, closing the compartment door. Cassandra turned to her best friend.

"So, your cousin's a git," Adrian said. She smiled her assent.

"Do you think he's really in the train… Harry Potter?" Marcus asked.

"The math adds up," She replied simply. The two boys looked at each other, seeming uneasy.

"Does that…" Adrian started. "How does that…" The boy huffed, seemingly unable to voice his thoughts. "I mean he's the reason…"

"My parents picked a side," she interrupted, knowing what her friend was trying to ask her. "And their side lost. I'm not going to look for a rematch."

Both wizards nodded, seemingly accepting her answer. She found herself glad for Flint's natural tendency not to ask too many questions unrelated to Quidditch, and Adrian's restraint in questioning her in front of others. The loss of the war wasn't a subject she allowed herself to dwell on. Whenever her mind strayed in the direction of the reasons that had guided her parents' actions, she immediately redirected her thoughts to the present. They had lived in a world of ideology, but she lived in a world of consequences. And there was nothing to be gained, and a lot to be lost, in antagonizing the boy-who-lived.

It wasn't until they were seated side-by-side at the Slytherin table, waiting for the first years to be sorted that Adrian brought up the topic of their earlier conversation.

"So you're really not bothered by the whole Harry Potter thing?" He whispered to her. "You're not gonna make him your mortal enemy or whatever?"

"My family wasn't arrested until over a year after the end of the war," she whispered back. "They could've done what most of other families did and lied to save their own necks, but they chose to go down with the sinking ship. Potter didn't make that choice for them. So no mortal enemies for me this year." She looked at her friend, who seemed relieved. She would be too, in his place.

Cassandra was barely paying attention to the kids being sorted until Professor McGonagall called out a name that made her stomach drop and her hands go cold and clammy.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

She watched the round-faced boy who she'd never met before trip and fall on his way to the stool, and willed herself to be still. She would show no emotion. She would not feel bad for him. His clumsiness was not her fault. The hat took a long time with him, and every second made her stomach more and more queasy. When it finally declared him a Gryffindor, Cassandra had to make an effort not to let her body sag in relief. At least he wouldn't be in her House. They were two years apart, and not in the same House. Maybe she could avoid him completely. She looked back at the stool when she heard laughter, and watched the boy jog back to return the hat he'd run off wearing. By the love of Merlin. Was he always this… pathetic? 'Not my fault', she chanted in her mind, 'not my fault'.

Cassandra managed to mostly tune out the rest of the ritual, only politely clapping when she heard her cousin being sorted into her House and Harry Potter going to Gryffindor.

That night, as she lay on her bed, she tried to rationalize away her concerns. It didn't matter that the boy who had ended the war that had consumed her parents was in the castle. Or that she might at any time run across the young wizard who had grown up an orphan because her family had tortured his parents to insanity. Or that her squibhead cousin had been sorted into Slytherin. She'd managed two years with no major disasters and minimal life-changing events; she'd manage another one.


	3. Part 1, Chapter 2

As the first week of classes passed, Cassandra noticed a marked change in the behavior of the general student population towards her; namely, that no one seemed to be paying any attention to her at all. All everyone was talking about was Harry Potter. The boy-who-lived seemed to be the new celebrity student Hogwarts couldn't get enough of.

"This is brilliant, Klaus!" She said to the raven, who'd come to greet her as soon as she stepped foot outside the castle. The bird was now perched on her right shoulder as she made her way to Professor Silvanus Kettleburn's Care of Magical Creatures classroom, which had been transfigured from Hogwarts' former hippogriff stables, since the magical animals hadn't been bred at the school since the turn of the century. "No one cares about me! I haven't been approached by a single first year asking me if my parents were the ones who killed their uncle during the war or some other nonsense. As if they left me a list of everyone they hurt before being carted off to Azkaban."

The raven cooed in agreement, and Cassandra continued walking to class. Professor Kettleburn was a favorite among students of all Houses, and she was excited to study magical creatures under his tutelage. Her own grandfather was a renowned potion-maker, who insisted that growing the plants and keeping the animals from which the ingredients used in one's potions were harvested was the only way to properly ensure their quality. As a result, after moving into Lestrange Manor to take up the guardianship of his granddaughter when she was five, Cygnus Black III had had the property's aviary and stables upgraded, build a large greenhouse and moved all sorts of magical creatures into the woods that circled the property. Since she was a little girl, Cassandra's time away from her lessons had been occupied by taking care of plants and animals alongside the house-elves. She'd been able to continue her study of plants in Professor Sprout's Herbology class since first year, but it hadn't been until this year that, as a third year student, she'd been able to take Care of Magical Creatures as an elective class.

Klaus' menacing croak brought her out of her musings, and she whipped her head around to see who her familiar was threatening. The Weasley twins, Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson apparently had also chosen to take this elective. Right, this was one of the Slytherin-Gryffindor classes. At least her year had been paired with Ravenclaw for Potions, otherwise her Head of House would've been unbearable in his classroom.

"No need to worry, boys," she said to the twins' benefit. "As long as you don't try anything, he won't attack you - unless I say so." She caught the eyes of one of the twins and winked. Both of them smiled widely, but Angelina Johnson scowled at her.

"We assure you, Lestrange, we have no intention of breaking our peace treaty with dear Klaus for now." George, or Fred said.

"We can't let him mangle us again, no matter how much fun it was the first time around," Fred, or George continued. "The female population of Hogwarts might riot against you if our handsome faces were scarred."

"Ah!" Professor Kettleburn, who'd suddenly appeared in front of them said loudly and rather enthusiastically, making the teenagers jump with surprise and Klaus croak in annoyance. "But what are scars but signs of a life well lived, my dears!"

If that was true then the teacher, with only one eye, half an arm and one leg, had to have lived the greatest life out of every wizard she'd ever met.

"Come on in!" He said, guiding the students into his classroom. The teacher turned to her, "I would never turn a familiar away from my classroom, my dear, but I hope you can keep him from eating the flobberworms I have in the back. We're going to need them for next week's class."

"Yes, sir," she said, then turned her head to Klaus. "Did you hear that? No eating the flobberworms. I'll feed you some cheese at dinner if you're good."

The bird bobbed his head down indicating his assent.

Cassandra took a seat besides Cassius Warrington, a Slytherin who'd played as reserve chaser in their House team last year. The boy looked pleased at having her sharing his table, and sat a bit straighter in his seat.

"Welcome, young wizards and witches, to the great world of Magical Creatures!" The professor started, addressing the classroom. "This course was first introduced by Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in 1927, with the goal of teaching students how to feed, maintain, breed and properly treat a wide range of magical creatures."

Cassandra took out her parchment and self-inking quill from her bookbag and started taking down notes.

"Can someone give me an example of a magical creature you've interacted with in your day-to-day lives?" Kettleburn asked.

"Gnomes," one of the Weasleys said.

"Kneazles," another Gryffindor offered.

"House-elves," a Slytherin said.

"Very good, very good. Two points for Gryffindor and one for Slytherin for the answers," the professor continued. "Now, can someone tell me what a gnome has in common with a kneazle, that it doesn't with a house-elf?"

Seeing no one else could answer the question, Cassandra did. "Although all three are magical creatures, gnomes and kneazles are classified as beasts, while house-elves are classified as beings."

"Very good…"

"Cassandra Lestrange," she offered, wincing internally. She never knew how a teacher might react to her last name. Kettleburn did not react at all, much to her relief.

"Five points to Slytherin for Cassandra's answer. In 1811, Minister Grogan Stump settled a long and troubled debate by defining Being as 'any creature that has sufficient intelligence to understand the laws of the magical community and to bear part of the responsibility in shaping those laws'. There are two other recognized classifications of magical creatures other than Beings - Beasts and Spirits. We will study and interact with some of the creatures classified by the Ministry as Beasts. Spirits and Beings are covered by either History of Magic or Defense Against the Dark Arts, depending on the specific creature." The professor paused, waiting for the students to catch up on their notes. "Now, according to Stump's classification of magical creatures, Beasts can be loosely defined as a magical creature that does not have sufficient intelligence to understand the laws of the magic community or help bear part of the responsibility of shaping those laws. Essentially, magical creatures that do not possess sapience. But there are exceptions. Despite being quite intelligent creatures organized in their own societies, centaurs and merpeople both requested to be classified as Beasts, refusing the Being status because they objected to some of the creatures they would have shared that status with, such as hags and vampires. Other creatures such as acromantulas, manticores and sphinxes qualified for Being status based on their capability for intelligent speech, but were not offered that classification, and instead classified as Beasts, because of their extremely violent and occasionally lethal tendencies. Although, if you ever come across a Sphinx, under no circumstance call her a Beast to her face. A friend of mine made that mistake once, and I lost three fingers from my right hand saving that prat. Not that you can tell now!" The professor said merrily, lifting the magical prosthetic that stood in place of his right arm up to the elbow. The class shared an awkward laugh at the joke.

"We've gone over what qualifies a magical creature as a Beast, according to Stump's Classification. There's one other way in which magical creatures are classified that's going to be relevant to our classes, and that is the X Classification." The teacher continued. "Depending on the level of danger they pose to a human being's life, magical creatures are classified on a scale of one to five Xs. Category X creatures, such as horklumps and flobberworms, which we will cover in next week's class, are boring and pose no threat to anyone. Category XX creatures are harmless and may be domesticated; owls are a good example. Category XXX creatures include those that should be no trouble to competent wizards, although I've seen plenty of wizards who'd call themselves competent be bested by a couple of stubborn pixies." The professor said with a chuckle. "To avoid any disasters, the ownership of some category XXX beasts is regulated by the Ministry. So if you want to legally own a fwooper or a cute kneazle come next term, you gotta head down to the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and get yourself a licence. Now, category XXXX is where things start to get hairy. Category XXXX creatures are dangerous, require special knowledge and should only be handled by trained wizards, or under the supervision of one. It also includes creatures that are endangered, or just too difficult to capture, rather than being dangerous per se, like the golden snidget. Category XXXXX creatures are known wizard killers, and are impossible to train or domesticate. Can anyone name a category XXXXX creature for me? Just think of the most dangerous creatures you can think of."

"Nundus?" Warrington offered from her side.

"Yes, very good. 3 points to Slytherin for…"

"Cassius Warrington," the boy answered.

"Cassius' answer. Any other guesses?" The teacher asked.

"Dementors?" Angelina Johnson said.

"Good guess, dementors are in fact known wizard killers and impossible to domesticate. One point for Gryffindor for the good use of logic. But I'm afraid dementors are not considered magical creatures, and thus, do not fall under the X Classification. They're classified as non-beings, although I would personally classify them as scary as hell." Kettleburn said, and the class laughed again.

By the end of class, Cassandra knew she'd made the right choice in electives. Kettleburn was a great teacher, and the material was engaging. She was also taking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, both useful in the understanding and mastering of the old rituals now almost exclusively performed by the traditional pureblood families, passed down by family members through generations.

"You were very good," she said to Klaus as she walked out of class and back to the castle. She moved him from her shoulder to her forearm, so she could look at him while talking. "You must be bored by now, so you can fly around and do whatever it is you do at the Forest until dinner. I'll save some cheese for you." She ran her nose affectionately through the raven's feathers, imitating the preening ritual his species used to indicate love and care. The bird ran his beak through her hair in a gesture mirror to hers, and flew away.

The next morning, Adrian sat across from her during breakfast, and Klaus stayed perched on her head, talons resting on her scalp, occasionally bending down to be fed pieces of bacon. She sat ramrod straight, holding her head up as she ate as to not dislodge him. If Mrs. Monterey, the grouchy manners tutor from her childhood, caught wind of how a bird could be used to keep someone from slouching, Cassandra was sure the woman would have little girls all over Great Britain sitting with birds of prey on their heads while they pretend-ate.

"Do you have any idea how creepy you look?" Adrian asked her as she ate another spoonful of porridge, savoring the taste of cinnamon and brown sugar in her tongue.

"Mind how you talk to your betters, Pucey," her little cousin intervened from down the table. She turned her head to him, glaring.

"Thank you, Draco," she said harshly, not thankful at all. "But had I any need of defending, I would've been perfectly capable of doing it myself. Do not presume to intrude my conversations." Klaus cawed from atop her echoing the sentiment, and Draco blushed, turning back to his friends without saying anything else. She'd been told before that being at the receiving end of identical glares from her and an onyx black raven twice the length of her head was an unnerving experience, and apparently the eleven year old Malfoy agreed. She turned back to Adrian, still scowling.

"See what you made me do?" She mouthed at her friend. He rolled his eyes at her.

"Sorry," he said insincerely.

"I'm sure no one who's ever met you doubts your ability to defend yourself, Lestrange," Cassius Warrington, the boy she'd sat by on Care of Magical Creatures said from where he was seating near Adrian. "But for whatever's worth, I think you look beautiful with your raven on you. He was very well-behaved in class yesterday."

She looked at him. Even though the boy had been sitting near her friend, she hadn't noticed him until he spoke up. Now he had a slight blush on his cheeks, but did not twitch under her scrutiny, which counted as a point in his favor. In their two years having classes together, they hadn't spoken much more than a handful of words to each other, only interacting during quidditch training, and in the rare games he'd been taken out of the bench for after another chaser's injury. He was good looking and clean-cut, from a pureblood family, and had never asked her stupid questions about her parents, so she didn't see any harm in accepting his compliment.

"Thank you, Cassius," she said finally, and the boy nodded at her before continuing his breakfast.

Adrian raised an eyebrow at her speculatively, and this time she was the one who rolled her eyes.

"So, what have you got today?" Cassandra asked her friend.

"Divination with the Hufflepuffs." Adrian said.

"What are you taking Divination for?" She scoffed. "Unless you're a Seer, that class is useless. And given you haven't managed to win a single quidditch cup bet in two years, we both know that's not the case."

Besides their annual Defense of The Dark Arts wager, students also ran illegal bets on the outcome of every official quidditch game played during the year's cup, as well as on the overall winner of the Quidditch and House Cup, the later which was won by whoever guessed which House won and by how many points. If quidditch was the official pastime of Hogwarts students, gambling was the unofficial one.

"It's an easy class," Adrian shrugged. "The more O.W.L.s I get, the better my resume looks, and there's no way I could get an O.W.L. in bloody Arithmancy or Ancient Runes"

"Right," Cassandra said. Even if it was an easy O.W.L., Divination was still a rubbish class.

She picked up the paper, which had just been delivered by owl, and looked over the front page. "Ask the teacher if they can divine who broke into Gringotts," she said, showing Adrian the Daily Prophet headline. "I bet the goblins would pay a pretty galleon for that."

"What do you think they were after?" Adrian asked.

"No idea," she answered. "Not gold, though. There are easier places to steal galleons from without risking the wrath of the goblins. They sent a letter to everyone with a vault to their name that day informing nothing had been taken and no other vaults had been breached, and they sounded pissed. My best guess, it was an heirloom or something one of a kind. I wouldn't risk my neck storming Gringotts for anything I could find literally anywhere else. Another thing you can ask your teacher."

Adrian ignored her barb. "What about you? Anything today?" He asked. By a stroke of luck, Slytherin third years had all their core classes scheduled between Monday and Thursday this year, leaving Fridays free, with the exception of a couple electives

"Nothing. I have some assignments to finish but I have no Friday classes, by Circe's merciful hand. So would you, if you were taking Arithmancy or Ancient Runes with me."

Her friend flipped her off, and she laughed.

"All right, see you later, Lestrange. I gotta head off to class," he said, getting up.

Later that day, after she finished her class assignments, bickered with Adrian during lunch and did the meditation exercises that were a part of the Occlumency training her grandfather had insisted her start the summer before her first year at Hogwarts, Cassandra headed to her dorm for a visit from her favorite being, the only one who'd been a part of her life consistently since she was born.

"Mimi," she called out after drawing the curtains around her bed closed, and the house-elf apparated in front of her with a loud crack.

"Oh Mistress!" The elf exclaimed, throwing herself at Cassandra. The witch hugged the elf back. "Mimi missed her Mistress Cassandra so much! Mimi is taking care of all her Mistress' plants and animals like she was told but she misses taking care of her Mistress most of all."

"I miss you too, Mimi. Silence the area around the canopy so no one can hear us, please." Cassandra replied, and had the elf sit down on the bed to chat with her. After they talked about their weeks and she let Mimi intricately braid and magically pin up her hair in a pretty updo, which made the elf unreasonably happy, she handed Mimi a small list of items she'd decided on during the week.

"Would you please bring these items for me from the house, Mimi? It should take an hour or so for everything to be ready, so I'll wait for you here," Cassandra said.

The elf scanned the list, and threw herself at her owner again, this time in tears. "Mistress Cassandra wants Mimi's special chocolate coconut cookies, Mimi knew her Mistress missed her too! Mimi will make the cookies and get the plants and everything her Mistress wants." The elf said, and immediately disappeared with another crack.

A few weeks into her first year, Cassandra had silently cried through the night, overwhelmed by how much she missed her home, and by how hostile some of the other students were towards her. In the following morning, not entirely awake and under the effects of the headache that she usually got after a long crying session, she'd called out for Mimi like she was used to doing at home, asking for the elf to bring her a headache relief potion. When Mimi apparated by her bedside with the potion in her hands, the two had cried at the joy of finding out that unlike wizards, house-elves could apparate in and out of the school. Ever since, she'd gotten used to calling for Mimi a few times a week, occasionally asking her to perform small tasks, much to the elf's delight.

Exactly an hour later, Mimi delivered the items Cassandra had requested. After thanking her elf, the witch gathered some of the items and made her way out of her dorm room.

"Pucey," she called out, nudging the wizard napping on one of the Slytherin common room leather couches with her knee.

"What?" The boy called out sleepily.

"For you," she replied, dropping a box on his stomach. Adrian opened it and sat up once he saw its contents.

"Are these Mimi's?" He asked. When Cassandra said yes, he pretended to swoon. "You magnificent witch. Have I told you how amazing you are lately? These are incredible." The boy said, an entire cookie already in his mouth. She gave him another playful nudge and made her way out of the common room.

Cassandra walked out of the castle to the greenhouse Professor Sprout used as her office. She waited outside, knowing the teacher only closed her door when talking to a student. A few minutes later, Cedric Diggory, a handsome Hufflepuff third year half the girls in Hogwarts seemed to be infantuated with, walked out of the office, putting a book in his bag absent-mindedly. When he looked up and noticed her, his face broke into a brilliant smile.

"Hey!" The Hufflepuff said warmly. Cassandra hesitated, unsure if the wizard was talking to her even if they were the only two people there. The only person who broke into a smile when they saw her was Mimi, and she wasn't even a person. "I'm Cedric," he offered when she didn't reply, seemingly unfazed by her silence. "We have a few classes together."

"Yes, of course. Hello. I'm Cassandra," she answered.

"If you want to talk to Professor Sprout, you can go in. We just finished up," Cedric said, and grabbed the door to hold it open for her.

"Right," Cassandra replied uncertainly. "Thank you."

"No problem," he answered, and smiled again. "It's good seeing you, outside of class."

Cassandra had no idea how to handle this conversation. Slytherins respected her, and some Ravenclaws acknowledged due to her grades, but whenever Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs weren't throwing accusations or hexes her way, they tended to avoid her entirely. She'd never had an interaction this… friendly with anyone outside her House. Or inside her House, as a matter of fact. Slytherins did not do friendly.

"Sure, it's good seeing you too," she tried. "I should head in."

"Of course. Goodbye, Cassandra," the wizard said as she walked into the greenhouse. She was still trying to figure out what their interaction had been about when Professor Sprout noticed her.

"Cassandra! Please, come in. To what do I owe the pleasure?" The older witch asked her from behind her desk.

"Hello, Professor. I wanted to thank you again for the Wiggentree branch you sent me over the summer. It's rooted quite nicely, and I'm expecting it will have grown a bit by the holidays. Grandfather had been trying to procure a sapling for the longest time, but you know how hard those can be to find," Cassandra said.

"Oh, that was no bother at all! I'm always glad to encourage young herbology enthusiasts. I'm glad to hear you've been successful with the planting. The bowtruckles were very hesitant to part with that branch, it took a lot of cajoling and a few fairy eggs to convince them to let me cut it," Sprout said with a chuckle, sounding as if she was fond of the small creatures that were prone to gouging out the eyes of anyone who threatened their home trees. From what Cassandra knew of the witch, she probably was.

"Well, regardless, I brought you a couple tokens of gratitude I believe you'll like," Cassandra said, depositing two boxes on the table.

"Truly, Cassandra, these are completely unnecessary. But if one of those boxes has what I think it does, I won't turn it away."

Most of the Slytherin students were in the habit of sending their favorite teachers small gifts on their birthdays, and Mimi's cookies had been a success with Professor Sprout. The teacher opened the first box, which did, in fact, contain a portion of the sweets, and smiled at her student.

"Well, thank you. I will be enjoying these after dinner tonight."

But it was the other box that contained the gift Cassandra knew would truly please the Herbology teacher. When she opened it, the woman let out a startled gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. "Cassandra! These are…"

"Niffler's Fancy seedlings, yes," the young witch said with a sincere smile. She truly liked the teacher, who'd been open and nonjudgmental towards her from her first year, and would let her help out in the greenhouses after the afternoon classes ended, whenever Cassandra needed a distraction, or to feel close to home for a while.

"But these are so rare," Sprout said, holding the box to her chest. Cassandra figured the witch would hesitate to accept the gift at first, but with how passionate she was about plants, specially the rare magical ones, Cassandra suspected she would have to fight the woman for the seedlings of the rare copper-colored plant if she truly wanted them back.

"Yes, that's why I chose them," Cassandra answered. "It would be meaningless to give you a plant you already grow here, and Merlin knows the list of specimens you don't have is a short one. Grandfather is interested in studying the potential uses of Niffler's Fancy in potions, so he had a shipment of seedlings delivered during the summer. I saved those for you."

"This is so exciting!" Sprout cried. "I was a student the last time I even saw one of these. Their leaves look so pretty when they're bigger. Oh and the color, it's going to look so nice in the Hufflepuff common room."

"I'm glad you like it, Professor," Cassandra said. "I should go. Thank you again, and have a nice evening."

"Oh thank you, my girl. These are wonderful gifts. If you ever need any other specimen for your greenhouse, just let me know."

Cassandra nodded at the teacher as she made her way to the door. She froze in shock when she opened it and saw who'd been waiting outside for their turn to talk to the Herbology teacher. Standing in front of her was small, awkward Neville Longbottom, holding a copy of 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' to his chest like a child might hold a favorite stuffed animal. They stared at each other for a while, until Cassandra noticed the boy's entire body was trembling. When she opened her mouth to say something, he took off running.


	4. Part 1, Chapter 3

"All right, spit it out," Adrian said, turning his head to her. They were laying in the grass under the shade of a tree, watching Klaus fly lazy circles in the sky above them.

"Spit what out?" Cassandra asked without looking at the wizard.

"Whatever it is that's been bothering you," Adrian said, elbowing her side. "I wasn't gonna say anything because I know how much you hate people butting in your business, but it's been two weeks, and I'm tired of you being a bitch."

"Well I'm not the one following you around, so feel free to leave me alone if I'm really such a bitch," Cassandra snapped back at her friend. When he didn't say anything, she sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry. That was unnecessary."

"And bitchy," Adrian added.

"And bitchy, yes," she agreed.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me," he said, nudging her foot with his. "You know I won't tell anyone, and I'll only judge you a little bit."

"You're such a witch, Pucey, wanting to talk about feelings," Cassandra said. She turned her head to look at her friend, who was still looking at her patiently. "Do you figure it's because of all the times your mother dressed you up as a girl when you were a baby?"

This time, his elbow came down on her side hard.

"I've no idea," Adrian said. "But when my parents find out I'm queer, that's for sure what I'm blaming it on."

The two friends laughed. Cassandra sighed again, hesitant to talk about what had been bothering her. Adrian was the only person she talked about her personal issues with, and still, there was a lot she kept from him. It had been ingrained in her mind, since she was a little girl, that trusting other people was not safe. She plucked at one of the smaller things that had been occupying her mind in the past couple of weeks.

"What do you think Warrington wants from me?" She said.

"That's what's been bothering you?" Adrian asked, skeptical.

"Not really. But it's what I want to talk about right now," Cassandra answered.

"All right," the wizard said, looking back at the sky. "He clearly wants to snog you. Maybe feel you up under your shirt if you let him."

Cassandra scrunched her nose up. "I hate that term, snogging. It sounds so stupid."

"Fine," Adrian replied. "He wants to kiss you senseless. And then run back to his dorm and rub one off at the thought that you might let him go any further."

Cassandra slapped his chest with the back of her hand halfheartedly. "Merlin, Adrian, you're so crass."

Adrian shrugged. "He's a guy. That's how guys think."

"I get that," she said. "But why me?"

"Come on, Lestrange. You know what you look like," Adrian said.

"I look like my mother," Cassandra replied.

"Maybe you do. But just because your mother was evil, doesn't mean she wasn't hot," he said.

"Is evil," she said quietly. "She's not dead."

"I-" Adrian started hesitantly, not knowing what to say to that. Cassandra shook her head, and he closed his mouth.

"Why now though?" The girl continued. "I looked the same last year, and the year before, and you're the only boy who's ever approached me, and we both know that's not because of how attracted you were my good looks."

"First of all, you're not particularly approachable. You showed up for our first year with a raven who glares at anyone who even looks at you, and attacks on command. And second and most importantly, you didn't have those boobs last year," Adrian replied, pointing at her chest. When Cassandra looked at him crossly, he scoffed. "It's true, you didn't. Boobs are a game changer for straight guys. And just because they don't do anything for me, doesn't mean I haven't noticed them. I'm not blind, and neither is Warrington."

"Fine," Cassandra said. "If that's true, then guys are somehow even more stupid than I thought. For two years everyone treats me like I'm a boggart, then I grow breasts and all of a sudden it doesn't matter that my parents are Death Eaters doing life in Azkaban? Really, that's all it takes? Even Diggory is being nice to me."

"Cedric Diggory?" Adrian asked, his eyebrows raised.

"No, his father. Yes, Cedric. He keeps… smiling at me in class. And saying hi to me in the halls. And the other day, when I forgot to bring my gloves to Herbology, he offered to lend me his so I wouldn't have to use one of the old gross spares Sprout keeps in her office, remember?" Cassandra said.

"Oh right," Adrian chuckled. "And you told him to mind his business."

"As you aptly pointed out, I haven't been in the best of moods lately," Cassandra said.

Adrian sat up, and looked at her seriously. "Not that this applies to Diggory, being a Hufflepuff and all, but you know to some people, specially in our House, your parents being Death Eaters is a positive, not a negative thing. Their families might have bailed on you-know-who after the war ended, but it doesn't mean they stopped believing in all the pureblood stuff. And you're sacred twenty-eight. The last heiress of a sacred twenty-eight family. That might not have mattered much to a bunch of eleven year old boys, but it sure will matter more and more the older we get. And it doesn't hurt that you're bloody gorgeous."

"I'm not doing that," Cassandra said angrily, sitting up as well. "I am not marrying someone whose family tucked their tail between their legs and begged the Ministry for forgiveness after the war, lying through their teeth about what they did and what they believed. I'm not saying I agree with what my parents did, but at least they were loyal to their cause. Everything they said, about pureblood superiority and how they would do anything for the Dark Lord, they meant it. Even after he disappeared, they never stopped looking, and when they were caught they didn't make up some story about being bewitched. They owned up to it."

"They're in Azkaban," Adrian said gently.

"As should all their friends be. As should Draco's father, and bloody Professor Snape. If you had any idea the stuff they did, Adrian. I read the transcripts of the Death Eater trials. My parents', uncle Rab's, Karkaroff's, all of them. I asked grandfather if he could get them for me when I was younger, and he did. They were all proud to wear the masks and kill muggles when it was convenient, but the second the war was lost the whole bloody lot ran and hid like rats. If they really regretted what they did, it would be one thing, but they don't. Snape walks around treating everyone who isn't a Slytherin like scum, and everyone says he won't stop tormenting Longbottom and Potter. Why do you think that is? At least my family is paying for what they did. Meanwhile my cousin and his stupid friends go around parroting the nonsense their parents tell them about muggleborns. The same parents who denied ever agreeing with what the Dark Lord was doing," Cassandra finished.

"So this is what's been bothering you," her friend said.

"Of course it is," she huffed. "I was happy enough to have the spotlight taken away from me by Potter, but I ran into Neville Longbottom outside Sprout's office, and he almost burst into tears. He was shaking, Adrian. And when I tried to say something he took off running. I have made ignoring what my parents did into a bloody art, but it's a lot harder when the consequences of their actions is sitting in the Great Hall with me, and being bullied by my squibhead cousin."

"Cassandra, listen to me. What your parents did to his, it's not on you. You were what, four, five? It's not like they asked for your opinion before they did it," Adrian said.

Sensing his witch's distress, Klaus had flown down and was now perched on her lap, and Cassandra was running her fingers over his feathers to calm herself down. They had sit far away from the castle, almost at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, but she still didn't want anyone to see her having an emotional outburst.

"I know that," she said. "Rationally, I do. It's what I tell myself every time I think about it."

"Does it help?" Adrian asked.

"A bit. Then I think about what a mess Longbottom is, and it makes me want to throw myself from the Astronomy tower," Cassandra answered.

Adrian looked at her determinately, then got up and wiped the grass from his pants. "Come on," he said, extending his hand to his best friend and helping her get up. "I have an idea."

"What kind of idea?" She asked.

"The kind that will make you feel better, even if just for today," he replied.

Knowing from experience that Adrian's ideas were always entertaining, even when they ended horribly, Cassandra followed him into the castle.

"Cosy spot you got here, Lestrange," one of the Weasley twins said as the two boys squeezed their way into the small alcove Cassandra and Adrian had been waiting for them in.

"I think if we're going to be this close to each other, you can call me by my first name," she said, as one of the twins bumped into her.

"Sorry," the boy said. "So," he continued.

"Why are we here?" His brother finished.

"As much as I hate to admit it as a Slytherin, no one knows their way around the castle better than the two of you," Adrian said.

The two Gryffindors smiled. "You're right about that."

"We need a place we can go to tonight, where we can make a racket without anyone noticing," Adrian continued. "Somewhere private, and obviously bigger than this."

"I can't believe you two lovebirds would come to us looking for a place to snog," the twin standing against a wall in front of Cassandra said, jesting. With her patience running thin, she decided to test out the theory Adrian had offered about her looks. She took a step forward, bringing her body close to the boy's and smiled, looking him in the eyes as if they were the only two people pressed closely in the small space.

"If that's what we wanted a place for, Weasley, I think right here would be perfect, don't you think?" She asked, pushing her right leg forward, resting her knee against the wall between the wizard's legs. Their bodies weren't touching anywhere, but they were standing so close Cassandra felt it when he shivered. "It's small, and dark and private. We could do a lot here without anyone noticing."

The boy was looking at Cassandra so intensely that he jumped when his brother made a noise clearing his throat. "Not - not looking for a place to snog, got it," he said.

"She's had a shitty couple of weeks, and we want a place where we can get sloshed and she can break some stuff," Adrian intervened.

"It's how I decompress," Cassandra shrugged, taking a step back.

"You have alcohol?" The Weasley standing in front of Adrian asked, perking up. "How did you get it into the castle? Who bought it for you?

"Why would I tell you that?" Cassandra said. "I can't bribe you with alcohol if you can get it yourselves, can I? Give us a place, and you get a bottle of firewhisky."

"Two bottles," the boy replied.

"One bottle of Blishen's, or two bottles of the cheap off-brand stuff. Your choice," She insisted.

"Fine. One bottle. And we go with you tonight."

"Why?" She asked.

"Because getting sloshed and breaking stuff with you sounds like a tremendous time, Cassandra," the Weasley in front of her said, grinning. "I'm Fred, by the way. If we're going to be this close to each other, you can call me by my first name too."

That night, after dinner, Cassandra found herself in the Shrieking Shack with Adrian and the two Weasleys. Once the boys had told her their destination, she'd gone to her dorm room and called for Mimi, giving the house-elf another list of items to be delivered to the abandoned house in Hogsmeade.

"Okay, Cassie," Fred said drunkenly from the floor, where he was laying down shirtless. Cassandra was sitting on his lap, painstakingly drawing a giant version the Slytherin crest on his naked chest with permanent magical marker. "You have got to tell us how you got this stuff in here."

The inebriated witch giggled. "I don't have to tell you anything, Fred. And don't call me Cassie."

"Can I call you Cassie?" Adrian asked, throwing an Exploding Snap card at the back of her head.

"Only if I can call you something equi- equally stupid," Cassandra said. She turned to her friend, who was sitting by George Weasley. "What are you guys doing?"

"We already broke everything there was to break," Adrian answered, swaying where he was sitting. "Great idea bringing your bat, by the way."

Cassandra bowed as if accepting a great compliment.

"We should play some Exploding Snap," Adrian suggested.

"Drunk Exploding Snap!" George exclaimed.

"Strip Exploding Snap!" Fred said, abruptly sitting up. Cassandra grabbed his shoulders to avoid falling back from his lap.

"Hey!" She protested.

"Sorry, Cassie," he said, not looking sorry at all. Cassandra suddenly noticed their faces were extremely close. If she moved even a little further, their noses would touch.

"If you think I'm gonna kiss you, Fred Weasley," she said slowly. "You are very, very wrong."

Fred scoffed. "As if I would let you kiss me. I'm a proud lion with a reputation to maintain. I don't go around letting snakes kiss me, no matter how pretty they are."

Cassandra laughed and grabbed the bottle of Firewhisky to take another swig. She passed it to Fred, who repeated the action. "Is it the boobs, Weasley?" She asked. The boy choked at the question, spitting the drink in her face. The room fell silent for a pregnant moment, then all four teenagers started roaring in laughter.

"I can't believe you did that!" Cassandra said, wiping the firewhisky and the tears she'd shed from laughing from her face.

"It was your fault, witch!" Fred protested.

"It was bloody brilliant, that's what it was," George said, still laughing. "My brother spit in Cassandra Lestrange's face, and she hasn't killed him yet."

"She asked me about her boobs!" His twin replied.

"Adrian told me they're the reason guys are nice to me now," Cassandra protested. "I just wanted to know if it's true."

She made her way to her friend on all fours, too drunk to trust herself to get up and walk without falling. She noticed both Weasleys looking at her ass in the process. _'Not just the boobs then,'_ she thought. She crawled on Adrian's lap, and her friend embraced her while taking a drink.

"I thought you weren't together," Fred said.

"I'm gay," Adrian blurted out. "You can't tell anyone, or my folks will end me," he continued, drunkenly. "Only Cassandra knows. And now you guys know too, I guess."

"That's cool," George said.

"Yeah," Fred confirmed. "We won't tell anyone, mate. You two are good people, for snakes."

"That's good," Cassandra said casually from her friend's lap. She had put her hands around his neck and the boy had his arms around her waist, head resting on her chest. As a matter of fact, he was drooling on her. Turns out, Adrian could fall asleep incredibly quick when drunk. "Because if I find out you two told anyone, I'll hold you down while Klaus pecks your eyes out."

She looked up, and saw that George was looking at her speculatively.

"You would do that, wouldn't you? You're not just saying it." The boy said.

"I would," she nodded. "I don't care about many people, but I do care about Adrian. If you hurt him, I'll hurt you."

Fred smiled. She wasn't expecting a smile. "I get that," he said. "He's like family to you, right? Family looks out for family. You're scary, Cassandra, but you use your powers for good."

"Well, mostly for good. She did have her bird attack us that one time," George said.

"He did that on his own," she said. "Klaus is very smart."

The teenagers fell silent for a moment, all enjoying the pleasant buzz the alcohol had provided.

"It's not the boobs," Fred said after a while.

"What?" Cassandra asked.

"The reason why we're being nice to you. It's not the boobs," Fred continued.

"Not just the boobs," George said, and the brothers chuckled.

"Malfoy could have the nicest rack in the world, and I still wouldn't lift my wand if that little git was on fire," Fred said. "You're a snake, and your parents were… you know. So we didn't have any reason to be nice to you at first, but you were always cool about our jokes. You didn't even try to kill us when we kidnapped your bird."

"Which everyone told us you would," George added.

"So that's the reason why. You're not evil, you just kinda look it. It took us a while to figure that out," Fred concluded. "We can be friends if from now on, if you want."

"I'll think about it," Cassandra said. "I do have a reputation as evil Death Eater spawn to maintain, you know," she grinned, and the Weasley brothers grinned back at her.


	5. Part 1, Chapter 4

"Tell me again why we need to do this at the buttcrack of dawn," Adrian said, walking behind Cassandra. At five thirty in the morning, they had left the castle and set off in the darkness toward the area behind the Quidditch field.

"Arithmancy, Adrian, that's why," Cassandra answered patiently. "Performing a ritual at a mirror hour makes it so the magic and intent being channeled are amplified and reinforced twofold, and I need the boost since I've never performed this one before. 06:06 am is the only time we could do this without risking a detention or being interrupted."

"Fine," Adrian huffed. "Is this it?" He asked, pointing to a small clearing behind the stadium.

Cassandra nodded. "Go ahead lay down like we talked, clothes off. You can leave your underwear on if you want," she instructed.

Adrian obeyed, and laid down in the grassy field with his arms and legs extended, so his body took the form of a pentagram. Cassandra took off her own robes and shoes, leaving on only her nightgown. She walked around her friend, carefully placing a rune on the ground at the end of each of his limbs, and over his head. She had carved the runes herself from the wood of a bloodwood tree, expecting the properties of the magic plant used as an ingredient in blood-replenishing potions to work harmoniously with the healing-focused symbols she'd chosen.

"Why do you need to have your robes off?" Adrian asked. "I thought I was the one being experimented on."

"Rune magic draws power from the earth, the air, everything around us. The caster serves as a conduit, drawing the magic from the runes, and with intent and the right words, gives it a purpose. Ideally I'd do this naked so the magic isn't dispersed through any materials touching my skin, but this is a school. And I don't wanna risk Filch seeing me naked."

"Filch seeing me naked, that's my boggart, called it," Adrian said, and they chuckled. "All right, can you at least cast a warming spell? It's freezing, and the grass is still bloody wet."

"No, that would interfere with the rune magic," she answered.

"Sometimes I hate being your friend," he replied. Cassandra ignored him. She'd agreed to do all his Herbology homework for the term in exchange for his participation in the ritual, and as far as she was concerned, they were square. If she could handle the cold, so could he.

Cassandra called out for Klaus, who'd been watching her from a nearby tree, and informed the bird of what she needed. The raven returned minutes later carrying a rabbit in its talons, which it deposited at his witch's feet. With a severing spell, she removed the head of the animal, and drained its blood in a bowl she'd transfigured from a stone. She walked in another circle around Adrian, dipping her fingers in rabbit blood and painting each rune with it. She kneeled down by Adrian's side, and drew a rune on his forehead in blood. She felt him shivering.

"Do you feel it?" She asked quietly.

"I feel… something," He answered. "Like my skin is buzzing. Is it the magic?"

"Yes," Cassandra said. "It's waiting to be directed."

She placed the bowl of blood down, and checked the time. "It's 06:03. If we're going to do it, it needs to be now. It's going to hurt, but hopefully not for very long. May I?"

They looked at each other, and Adrian nodded.

Cassandra took a deep breath, then lifted her wand, pointing it at his body. "_Diffindo._"

Adrian cried out as a long, deep gash opened along his chest. He closed his eyes to avoid seeing the blood he felt pouring out of the wound. After a moment, Cassandra started chanting softly. Her hands were hovering above her friend's torso, and she concentrated to channel the magic she could feel emanating from the runes. She closed her eyes and visualized Adrian's flesh knitting itself closed, willing the magic to perform the task. After a few minutes, she felt a wave of what she could only describe as satisfaction coming from the runes, as if the magic was happy to have fulfilled a purpose. She opened her eyes to check her work, but instead of an empty field, in front of her she saw a girl, seemingly frozen in shock. When their gazes locked, the girl let out a blood-curdling scream.

Hours later, Cassandra found herself in the headmaster's office, facing Professor Dumbledore with Adrian and Professor Snape by her side, while the screaming girl, who she now knew was a Ravenclaw Prefect called Penelope Clearwater, stood with Professor Flitwick, her own Head of House.

"Sit down, everyone, please," Dumbledore said. They all did. The headmaster looked at them serenely. "Now, I've heard the story from Miss Clearwater's perspective, as well as from Miss Lestrange's and Mr. Pucey's. From the materials collected from the site, I believe I have a fairly clear understanding of the events. Miss Lestrange, you were performing what I believe to be a healing ritual utilizing rune magic, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Cassandra said.

"Which you, Mr. Pucey, volunteered to participate in, having been made aware of all the steps involved in it beforehand?" Dumbledore continued.

"Yes, sir," Adrian answered.

"And how do you feel, Mr. Pucey? I know Madam Pomfrey looked you over, but are you feeling well?" The headmaster asked.

"Yes, sir," Adrian said. "I feel brilliant. Like I took a double dose of Pepper-up."

"Yes," Dumbledore smiled, "I believe that is the work of Miss Lestrange. Are you particularly interested in healing magic, my dear?"

Cassandra had to stop her eyes from narrowing at the term of endearment coming from a man she was speaking to directly for the first time in her life. "I'm mostly interested in rune magic, sir," she answered. "I understand the use of runes fell out of fashion a long time ago, but some of us still observe the old ways. Professor Babbling assigned an essay on possible uses for the Poetic Edda runes, and I theorized I could incorporate the life-runes in a generic healing ritual by carving them in bloodwood, then having the magic transfer the injuries from the patient to a dead animal. Adrian volunteered to let me test the ritual on him, so I did. And it worked."

"So it did," the headmaster said. "Unfortunately, Miss Clearwater came upon you during her morning run, and not being familiar with this particular branch of magic, was frightened by what I imagine must've been a shocking sight. Is that correct, Miss Clearwater?"

"Ye- yes, sir," The girl answered. "There was blood everywhere, and this rabbit was all... There was a rabbit on the ground without a head, split open. And I couldn't tell if Pucey was alive, there was so much blood."

"Madam Pomfrey said the boy was perfectly fine when he was brought to her," Professor Snape said harshly "If Miss Clearwater hadn't fallen in hysterics, she would've been able to see that for herself. Instead she ran into the Great Hall screaming that one of my students had murdered a boy."

"You can hardly fault the girl, Severus!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed. "That type of magic…"

"Healing magic?" Snape interrupted.

"There was a torn up rabbit," Penelope insisted. "You don't kill an animal…"

This time, it was Cassandra who interrupted her. "Please! Have you stepped a foot into a Potions classroom since you entered this school? Because if you have, you might have noticed we use ingredients harvested from animals all the time. Bat wings, dragon livers, rat spleens, you name it. Where do you think those come from?"

"Miss Lestrange," Professor Flitwick started, but again, was cut off by the Potions Master.

"Miss Lestrange is correct," Snape said. "Students are instructed to purchase pre-prepared ingredients for their lessons because it would be impractical and time-consuming for them to harvest the items themselves, but if you think no animals have been harmed for the benefit of your magical education, Miss Clearwater, then you're a fool."

"Severus, that's enough," Professor Dumbledore said calmly. "Miss Clearwater reacted the only way she could with the knowledge she had at the time. And even if Miss Lestrange's conduct in procuring the ingredients used on her ritual was above-board, I can hardly condone students experimenting on each other without supervision. The next time you have a hypothesis you want to test out, Miss Lestrange, I insist you talk to a teacher beforehand, so you can do it under proper supervision. The ritual you performed today was a truly impressive and creative display of magic for someone your age, but Mr. Pucey could've been seriously hurt if something had gone differently. But as I see it, no harm befell upon anyone today, and since all misunderstandings have been cleared, I see no reason for anyone to be punished."

But despite the headmaster's lack of punishment, the harm to Cassandra's reputation had already been done. Because of Penelope Clearwater's declaration in the Great Hall during breakfast, all the upper years could talk about was the supposed dark ritual the Lestrange girl had been caught performing by a Prefect. From human sacrifice to necromancy, several theories as to exactly what kind of vile dark magic she was steeping in were shared throughout the castle. Whatever goodwill her behavior in her previous years had earned her previously immediately vanished. As far as the Hogwarts student body was concerned, Cassandra Lestrange was her parents' daughter, and would one day end up in the same place as them. When a troll was found in the dungeons by a teacher during the Halloween feast, it was to her that other students' accusatory stares were directed.

"What would I need a bloody troll for?" She'd muttered to Adrian then. "Flint is already right over there."

Cassandra reacted to her shunning as she'd been taught by her grandfather and tutors all through her childhood - with patrician grace and cold detachment. She wouldn't beg for anybody's approval, she didn't need it. If they wanted to fear her, so be it. At least people tended to respect the things they're afraid of.

Weeks later, Fred Weasley approached her as she did her daily meditation exercises, on a spot at the top of the Astronomy tower.

"There's my favorite necromancer," he said, sitting on the ground by her side in the gangly, haphazard way teenage boys often moved.

"What do you want?" She asked without opening her eyes. Most of the occlumency exercises she'd been instructed to practice consisted of working to clear her mind of superficial thoughts, then creating a detailed sensory barrier to shield the deeper layers of her mind. Her own barrier was a deep, dark, stormy ocean. She focused on vividly picturing the shocking feeling of freezing cold water touching skin, the smell of salt and pungent zing of ozone that comes with sea storms, the frightening and impossibly loud noises made by thunder and violent rushing waves, the darkness of a starless night sky, filled only with heavy clouds. The deeper a legilimens tried to delve into her mind, the deeper and deeper they would swim towards the endless bottom of dark, frigid ocean waters. When her instructor had last tried to invade her mind during her summer lessons, he had declared the experience overwhelmingly unpleasant. Most people just pictured a wall. She hated being interrupted when doing this, which is why she chose the secluded spot she was at to practice. "How did you even find me?"

"Just because we're friends now doesn't mean you get to know all my secrets, Cassie," Fred said.

"Don't call me Cassie," she said, finally opening her eyes. "So, what do you want?"

"Maybe I just want to know how you're doing," he said, exaggeratedly defensive. "Or maybe I want to catch you performing some scary dark magic. Kill anyone for their blood lately?"

Despite herself, Cassandra snorted. "Not today, but it is only five pm. I still have time."

Fred grinned. "So, how are you doing?"

"Fine," she answered.

"You wanna elaborate on that?" The redhead asked.

"Not particularly," Cassandra said.

"Fine," Fred huffed. "Don't complain I didn't try to talk to you later, woman!"

"I won't," she replied easily. "Is this really what you interrupted me for? I'm busy here."

"You were sitting motionless with your eyes closed. I watched you for like five minutes," he said. "I thought you might be taking a nap, but who naps sitting up straight?"

"I was planning out the ways I'm going to eliminate all the muggleborns in this school," Cassandra said casually.

"Really?" Fred asked.

"No, but that's what they say of me anyways, isn't it? Dark witch Cassandra, just like her dark parents. Maybe I should give them a real reason to think that." She answered in the same casual tone.

"Look," Fred said sheepishly, "that's kind of what I'm here about. Penelope Clearwater, the girl who-"

"Screamed to the entire Great Hall that I'd murdered my best friend? I know who she is," Cassandra ended.

"Yeah, that one. She's friends with my brother Percy and she, uh, she wants to apologise to you," Fred said.

"Why now? It's been over a month," she asked.

"Well yeah. The thing is, apparently she can't get out of the castle without being followed by a bunch of ravens? They haven't attacked her or anything but they keep, and I quote, following her and croaking at her ominously. And she thinks you may have something to do with that, because of, you know, because of Klaus," Fred said.

"So let me get this straight," Cassandra said, to witch Fred flinched. "The girl who single-handedly managed to turn every single student in this school back against me after I worked for years to try and dispel the prejudiced notions they had against me because of my parents wants to apologise to me, not because she feels regretful, but because she can't stand being hated by a few corvids?"

"Yes?" Fred tried. "Look, she's a muggleborn. The whole rabbit thing really freaked her out. They're not used to that kind of stuff."

"You know, this is why purebloods hate them," Cassandra said. When Fred looked confused, she elaborated. "Muggleborns. Do you know why rune magic and the type of ritual I was performing stopped being widely used by wizards in Britain? Because uneducated muggleborns like her couldn't help but bring their silly made up judeo-christian notions into our world, and saw any magic that didn't involve wand waving as dark. Just because an animal is used in a ritual, suddenly it's dark magic? That rabbit felt no pain. Klaus brought it to me alive and I severed its head with a spell. It took a fraction of a second for it to die, which is likely a much quicker death than it would have found in the wild. I performed effective healing magic, the kind most wizards wouldn't be able to unless they were Healer apprentices, as a third year. And it's not some impossible feat of magic either, with the proper instruction I figure a lot of wizards our age would be able to do it. But most wizards don't have that knowledge, because of people like your brother's friend."

"Look, I get it," Fred said. "I get you're frustrated. But there are potions for that kind of stuff now. Spells and-"

"What if you're stuck somewhere without access to a potion?" Cassandra asked. "With no Healer around? And George is hurt and bleeding out. What do you do? Healing spells are very advanced magic. We don't learn them at school."

"I don't know. I could apparate us away?" Fred said.

"Side-along apparating an injured person almost always results in deadly splinching. Only very powerful wizards can do it without causing further harm. You know what you'd do? You'd probably sit there and cry as you watched your brother die." Cassandra said matter-of-factly.

"Hey!" Fred protested.

"It's the truth, Weasley. You would, because you do not have the knowledge to be able to save someone in that situation. Because that knowledge simply isn't accessible anymore. I mean, people study Ancient Runes as a relic from another time, oblivious to the fact that they can still be used as the foundation of incredible rituals. I doubt even Professor Babbling practices much of it, even though she teaches the bloody subject. Rune magic is the most ancient, most powerful form of magic there is, that almost no one uses anymore. But I do. I do because I chose to explore the knowledge that has been passed down through generations by my family, because we didn't bow to the whims of muggleborns."

"Your family also believed in killing those muggleborns," Fred said.

"Whatever," Cassandra said sullenly. "You can tell Clearwater I have no intention of killing her, but I won't accept her self-serving apology."

"Why not?" Fred asked.

"What do I gain by accepting it?" Cassandra asked. "I'll know she doesn't mean it, and is only doing it because she's spooked by a few birds - which, by the way, is Klaus' doing, not mine. The only person who'll benefit from it is her. She'll get to clear her conscience while still believing she's in the right. I hope those birds shit on her head."

Fred sighed, and then chuckled. "You're a piece of work Cassie, you know that? But somehow I still like you."

"It's the boobs," Cassandra answered.

"And I haven't even gotten to see them yet," Fred said, and laughed when the witch flipped him off.


	6. Part 1, Chapter 5

The first Quidditch match of the season had come and gone. On a freezing cold Sunday morning, Cassandra had had the pleasure of hitting Katie Bell, a Gryffindor chaser who'd asked if she thought they had a Quidditch league in Azkaban, in the back of the head with a perfectly-aimed bludger, and was having a lot of fun pelting the bludgers the Weasley twins kept directing at her right back at them, until Harry Potter, who somehow had managed to become Gryffindor's seeker despite being a first year, had started bucking on his broom, which clearly had been tampered with by someone, probably from her team. The thought angered her. If they were going to play, why not try to win with pure skill? The team certainly had it, after all they had won the Cup every single year she'd been at Hogwarts. The boy-who-lived had managed to catch the snitch anyways, almost swallowing the thing in a play Cassandra had never seen in person before. She'd be annoyed at him if it wasn't for her team's attempt at cheating.

"I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT!" Flint howled in the locker room.

"Will you stop screaming, Flint!" She said, throwing a stinging hex her Captain's way to get his attention. He jumped and scowled at her, but stopped yelling. "We were playing a good game until Potter caught the snitch. We were sixty-twenty. Higgs is going to need a better broom if he's going to keep up with a Nimbus Two Thousand, but our play was good."

"Not good enough!" Flint answered angrily.

"No, not good enough. So we train harder, and do better next time. But enough with the bloody screaming," Cassandra said.

"I'm with Lestrange," Adrian said from behind her.

"Shut up, Pucey!" The captain replied angrily. Adrian frowned, and Cassandra rolled her eyes at him. Of course Flint wouldn't yell at her to shut up. He probably thought she'd use him in a ritual as a human sacrifice if he did it. Having a reputation as a Dark witch had its perks.

"Now, there's something I believe needs to be addressed," Cassandra said to the entire locker room. "Someone jinxed Potter's broom." When her teammates started yelling in protest, she raised her wand. They immediately stopped. "I'm not saying it was one of us. I'm not saying it wasn't one of us. What I'm saying is, as much as the thought of getting one over the boy-who-lived might be enjoyable, if the person who did this is caught, and they suspect it was done to influence the outcome of the match, our team could be disqualified from the entire season. Do we want that, Flint?" She asked the Captain, who had turned a ghostly shade of white at the idea.

"IF I FIND OUT ONE OF YOU IDIOTS-"

Cassandra smiled to herself. There, she'd done her part.

With the end of November came the anniversary of the day Cassandra had last seen her parents. It was a date she dreaded, but couldn't help marking on her calendar. She remembered vividly the warning her mother had given her that day to never trust a traitor, the way she had kissed the top of her head before saying goodbye; her father, waving to her as he apparated. She remembered the fear she felt on the days that followed, when Mimi had tried to comfort her as Ministry wizards tried to blast away the charm set up by her family, which had prevented anyone uninvited from entering the Lestrange property.

That afternoon, Cassandra decided to take a walk along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She often found herself drawn to the location, and had to resist the impulse to delve into the woods. She was thinking about Klaus, who had wandered into the forest to hunt, which is why, she told herself later, she was startled by Cedric Diggory, possibly the least threatening person in Hogwarts, behind the house-elves and the Sorting Hat, who didn't even qualify as people.

"By Merlin, Cedric!" She said, hand to her heart. "You almost scared my ghost right out of me."

Cassandra stopped for a moment to wonder when she'd started to think of the wizard as Cedric instead of Diggory. She wasn't on a first name basis with many people. Maybe when she told him off for offering to lend her his dragonhide gloves in Herbology, and he had only nodded in return, not affected by her rudeness at all. Not many people weren't scared of her these days. It was nice knowing there was someone who didn't think she would murder them for approaching her. That was a perfect word to describe Cedric Diggory, Cassandra thought, 'nice'. Nice and handsome.

"I'm so sorry," he said, although she could tell he was trying his best not to laugh at her reaction. At his poor attempt of looking contrite, Cassandra startled giggling. He laughed with her.

"I didn't know it was possible for someone to jump that high without a broom," Cedric said.

"Oh, do shut up," Cassandra said, no heat behind the words. She started walking, and Cedric walked by her side. "Do you make it a habit of going around scaring unsuspecting witches, Diggory?"

"No, I don't. I'm pretty sure my mother would hex me if she found out her son was doing something like that. And please, call me Cedric," he said.

"I assure you my hexing would be far worse than your mother's, Cedric. Unlike her, I have no personal stake in your continued well-being," Cassandra said, and watched him take her words in from the corner of her eye. His mouth curved in a small smile. He didn't seem scared by her threats, he seemed... fond. Cassandra's face heated. Was she blushing? She had no memory of ever blushing, in her life. She couldn't believe she was blushing over Cedric Diggory.

"I have no doubt of that," the wizard said, interrupting her thoughts. "But I swear on my magic, I had no intention of scaring you."

"I believe you," Cassandra said. For some reason, it wasn't hard to.

"Good," Cedric replied. "I've been wanting to talk to you for a while. I wanted to know if you're alright."

"If I'm alright?" Cassandra repeated. "Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I looked up the ritual you were performing that day," Cedric said, looking ahead. Cassandra stared at his profile as he spoke. He was holding his hands behind his back, as if to stop himself from fidgeting. "Based on what Clearwater described. It took me a while, because I had no familiarity with rune magic outside of what Professor Babbling teaches in her class, but I found a description of something similar to it in a book called '_A Handbook of Armanen Runic Wisdom_'".

"Yes, that's where I got the idea from," Cassandra said. Cedric nodded.

"There's nothing dark about it. It's a healing ritual," he said.

"Yes. I don't make it a habit of practicing dark magic. Although my family's definition of dark magic is probably a lot more flexible than most people's," she said with a smile, although there was no humor behind it.

"I know you don't," Cedric said firmly. "Practice dark magic, that is."

"You know that?" Cassandra asked, her eyebrows raised. This time, it was Cedric who blushed.

"I suppose I can't know that for a fact, but I believe that you don't. You know, Professor Sprout really likes you," he said.

"She does?" Cassandra asked. Cedric nodded.

"She talks about you sometimes. She told me you and your grandfather grow a lot of rare plants that even she doesn't. That you're good with them," the wizard continued.

"Yes, my grandfather is a potion-maker," she explained. "He believes the only way to guarantee a potion's quality is to harvest the ingredients yourself. He taught me everything I know."

"Professor Sprout doesn't like a lot of people," Cedric said. "She likes plants, and taking care of plants, and talking about plants, but that's about it. She's polite to everyone, of course, but for her to actually like someone enough to talk about them, it takes something special. A gentleness that makes you good at nurturing other living things." Cedric said.

"I don't think anyone who's ever met me would describe me as gentle," Cassandra replied.

"I don't think most people give you any reason to be gentle with them," Cedric said. "They're certainly not gentle with you."

At that, Cassandra stopped walking. She turned towards Cedric, who had a fierce look in his eyes.

"I see you. The way you are with your raven. He's not your pet, or at least he's not like any pet I've ever seen. He anticipates your needs. He reacts to your moods. He holds grudges against people who are rude you. He loves you, because you love him. You're an aggressive player, but you have never fouled anyone during a Quidditch match. When we were handling Mandrakes in Herbology last year, whenever you took your plant out of the soil and it started crying, you sang to it. I couldn't hear it, but I saw you," Cedric said.

"It was a baby," Cassandra said defensively.

"Exactly. You felt bad for a plant because it was a baby and it was scared, so you soothed it. You're not a bad person. But everyone treats you like you are," the wizard said, still looking her in the eyes. Cassandra crossed her arms in front of her chest. All of that was true, but she had never expected anyone to notice. Or to care. She had no idea what to say. As if sensing her discomfort, Cedric's eyes softened.

"I can't imagine how hard it must be, having to carry the weight of what your family did on your shoulders," he said softly. Cassandra closed her eyes. She was not going to cry. No one had ever said those words to her. Some had vaguely expressed the sentiment, but never said the actual words. They hit her harder than she thought they would. She had grown up knowing there was no fairness in the world, so she had no expectation of ever receiving any acknowledgement for enduring the lack of it in her own life. Receiving that acknowledgment, even if from someone she rarely talked to, was as painful as it was cathartic.

"Why are you saying all of this?" She asked weakly without opening her eyes. She felt Cedric putting his warm hand on her arm, and heard him sighing deeply.

"Because I-"

But before Cedric could finish speaking, Cassandra heard a loud, piercing croak she'd recognize anywhere. She looked at the sky and saw Klaus flying in their direction, quickly and with purpose. She extended her arm out to give him a place to land.

"Hey, pretty boy," she said to Klaus, caressing his head with a finger. "What's going on? You sound scared." In that moment, Cassandra noticed a silver-blue, tick substance coated Klaus' talons. Her stomach flinched. She ran her finger over the bird's talons and brought it to her nose. As she feared, it smelled sweet.

"What's wrong?" Cedric asked anxiously, reading her face.

"There's an injured unicorn somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. Klaus came to warn me. I have to go."

She turned to run into the woods, but was stopped by Cedric's arm over her middle.

"You can't go in there!" He said urgently. "You could get hurt. There are all sorts of creatures in the forest."

"I'm aware of that, Diggory," Cassandra replied angrily, shoving his arm away from her. "One of those creatures is hurt, and needs care. Unless you want to get stunned, get out of my way."

The wizard looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "All right, I'm coming with you."

But Cassandra had started running even before Cedric ended his sentence. Klaus flew ahead of her, showing her the way to the injured animal. There weren't many creatures capable of killing a unicorn. They were so quick, they could outrun most predators, and creatures of such powerful light magic that even the darkest of beasts tended to be averse to killing them. Her grandfather had bought a golden unicorn foal when she was eight, and when the animal had let her pet it, she'd felt such a rush of purity she'd broken down in tears. The idea of one of those creatures hurt and bleeding alone in the Forbidden Forest was enough to make her run quicker. She jumped over twisted roots and fallen branches.

Deep into the dense woods, Klaus came to a halt, landing on a tall tree branch. Cassandra looked around carefully, and eventually spotted the shocking bright white of an unicorn's coat against the darkness of the forest ground. The animal was making pitiful, painful sounding noises that made her stomach clench. She heard a shocked gasp behind her.

"That's-"

"Shhh," she whispered to Cedric. "Stay back. They don't trust males. I'm going to see what's wrong."

Cassandra undid the clasp of her outer robe and dropped it to the forest ground. She walked slowly and steadily towards the injured creature. When it saw her, it bucked back, crying out. "It's alright," she said softly, putting her hands up and approaching it even more carefully. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I'm not going to hurt you." She kneeled by the animal's head and slowly pet its face. The animal shivered and relaxed, as if relieved by the lack of violence in her touch.

"What's wrong with it?" Cedric whispered to her from where he stood. She lifted her head, and realized she was crying.

"Something cut its throat," she answered quietly, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. "See?" She pointed to an enormous gash going from the animal's neck to its ribs. She kept petting its side delicately, trying to bring it some comfort without causing pain. "It's bleeding out."

"Is there - what do we do?" Cedric asked. His eyes were red, and a tear was making its way down his face. Cassandra closed her eyes, thinking.

"Go get Kettleburn," she said decisively. "He's going to know what to do. Start yelling for him as soon as you get to the edge of the Forest. Use an Amplifying charm on your voice if you have to."

"I shouldn't leave you alone," Cedric replied. "Whatever did this…"

"Is long gone. Go. Klaus will protect me," Cassandra answered. Cedric wiped the tears from his face and took off running on the direction they'd come from. Cassandra mirrored his action and wiped her own face with her sleeve. There wasn't really any time to get Professor Kettleburn, or anything he'd be able to do once he got to them. Healing charms and potions created with the human anatomy in mind didn't work on magical creatures. They usually had to be nursed back to health the same way non-magical animals were, and the unicorn had lost too much blood for that to be an option. But Cassandra knew a type of magic that was particularly amenable to intent, and a healing ritual she could readily perform with what she had at hand.

She took out her wand and started quickly transfiguring runes from a branch she found behind her. It was oak, not bloodwood, but it would have to do. She laid them out in the form of a pentagram around the fallen animal, then took the rest of her clothes off, tossing them aside. She cut her own palm with a spell, then proceeded to drip her blood over the runes. She drew the final rune on the unicorn's head, right below its horn, and kneeled in front of it again. She could feel the magic of the forest thrumming through the runes. She visualised the animal's wound knitting itself closed, and her own blood giving it strength, and started chanting. After a while, her world faded to black.

Sometime later, she woke up in a bed in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey hovering over her.

"Oh, thank goodness, you're awake!" The witch exclaimed. "You did a very irresponsible thing, and lost a lot of blood. We were very worried for you."

Cassandra nodded to appease her. She looked around slowly, and saw Professor Dumbledore sitting on a chair by her bedside, with Professor Snape standing silently behind him, looking extremely put-out. Cassandra wanted to snap at him. The man couldn't even muster up enough compassion to pretend he had any bedside manners.

"Did it work?" She asked the headmaster. "Did I save it?"

Professor Snape's scowl somehow deppened, even though Cassandra hadn't thought it possible.

"You almost killed yourself in the grounds of this school, Miss Lestrange, and the first thing you inquire about when you wake up is the health of a unicorn? In your years as my student I hadn't pegged you as a fool, but apparently I was wrong," Snape chided. Klaus croaked angrily at him from somewhere above her head, and Dumbledore smiled.

"That is a very loyal raven you have there, Miss Lestrange," the headmaster said. "Madam Pomfrey tried to get it out of the room, but it had none of it."

"He's my familiar. He goes where I go," she answered. "Specially when I'm hurt."

"Yes," Professor Dumbledore agreed. "It takes an exceptional amount of trust between a magical creature and a wizard for a familiar bond to be formed; did you know that? A wizard can own a magical creature for its entire life without the bond ever forming, only having it as a pet. My own phoenix, Fawkes, stayed by my side for close to a decade before she accepted our bond. How long did it take for you and Klaus?"

"A couple months," Cassandra answered.

"That doesn't surprise me, considering his witch is the kind of person who would risk losing her own life to save another creature's," Dumbledore replied.

"Of all the stupid things-" Professor Snape started, only to be interrupted by the headmaster.

"Severus, please. The girl has had a very taxing day. You can yell at her once she's fully recovered," Dumbledore said calmly. Snape glared at the back of the headmaster's head, then left the room in silence.

"The unicorn. Is it ok?" Cassandra asked again.

"Yes, it is," Dumbledore replied. "According to Mr. Diggory, it was nearly dead when the two of you found it."

"None of it was Cedric's fault. We were talking when Klaus came to warn me about the unicorn, and Cedric only went into the forest because he didn't want me to go in alone. He tried to talk me out of it," Cassandra said.

"I know, my dear," Dumbledore said. "Mr. Diggory and Professor Kettleburn were walking back into the forest to find you when Firenze carried you out. Mr. Diggory was quite distressed at your state, but was able to tell us what had happened."

"Firenze?" She asked.

"One of the centaurs that live in the Forbidden Forest. Some of them watched you perform your ritual, and he carried you out of the forest once you passed out," Dumbledore replied.

Cassandra shivered at the knowledge she had been watched as she tried to save the creature. "Why didn't they intervene?" She asked. "Why didn't they try to help it?"

"I'm afraid their magic would have been of no help. They were going to take the animal out of its misery before you arrived," Dumbledore said. Cassandra nodded. That made sense.

"It wasn't an accident," she said. "Something butchered that unicorn for its blood."

"I know," Dumbledore replied.

"Do you know what did it? I can't even comprehend the vileness of something capable of doing that. Unicorns are..."

"Unmatched in their nobility, and in the goodness of their magic," Dumbledore completed her sentence.

"Yes," Cassandra assented. "There was no choice, Professor. I couldn't watch it die. A part of me would have died with it, that I'm not ready to lose yet."

"I understand, my girl," the headmaster answered. "Seeing something so singularly pure desecrated in such a violent manner would've affected anyone with a good heart. You had the tools to save it, and you did. But you could have died. You might have had, based on the extent of your injuries, if Firenze hadn't carried you out in time."

"That was my choice to make," Cassandra answered. "And I would make the same one again, if I had the chance. My entire line has died out, or is incarcerated, Professor. If I were to die saving the life of such a pure creature, my sacrifice would be a drop in the cauldron compared with the pain caused by the acts carried out by my family.

For a moment, the headmaster looked pained. "It is not your responsibility to atone for the sins of your family, Miss Lestrange."

"All I have done, my entire life, is carry the sins of my parents, Professor. I have grown quite used to their weight," Cassandra replied.

The headmaster nodded sadly, and took his leave.

Hours later, after she'd had another nap and a blood-replenishing potion, Madam Pomfrey allowed Adrian and Cedric in for a visit. They both looked haggard and worried.

"You stupid, hard-headed, crazy bitch-" Adrian started, only to be stopped short by an angry Cedric.

"Don't talk to your girlfriend like that!" Cedric said, with shocking forcefulness.

"My girlfriend?!" "His girlfriend?!" Adrian and Cassandra exclaimed at the same time.

"Whatever you think is going on here, is not what's actually going on here, Diggory," Adrian said with a hint of humor.

"Does everyone think that?" Cassandra asked, annoyed. "He's not my boyfriend. We have no interest in each other like that."

"It's true," Adrian shrugged.

"But… You're together all the time. Whenever he's not with Flint, he's always with you." Cedric said.

"Whenever he's not with Flint?" Cassandra asked, turning to her friend. "Since when have you been spending so much time with-"

"That's not relevant right now," Adrian said quickly. "I peeked my head out of the Quidditch pitch when I heard Diggory screaming the castle down calling for Kettleburn, only to see you being carried out of the Forbidden Forest naked and covered in blood by a centaur. When I recovered from the near heart attack that gave me and managed to fly there, I heard from said centaur you were bleeding out because you tried to kill yourself to save a unicorn. Have you been hit in the head by any stray bludgers lately, Lestrange? What were you thinking? Since when do you pull stupid life-threatening stunts, and without me? I know today's not your favorite day, but this is a little much."

Klaus cawed in agreement. "Traitor," Cassandra muttered at her familiar.

"It wasn't as if I planned it out," she said sullenly to Adrian. "Cedric and I were talking, and Klaus flew over to tell me about the unicorn. We followed him and when we got to it, I realized it was dying, and what I had to do."

"So you sent me out for Kettleburn for nothing?" Cedric asked her, suddenly serious. Cassandra winced.

"Look," she tried, in a conciliatory tone, "I figured you wouldn't let me do what I needed to do, so I thought I would have you get Kettleburn, and when you found us I would have performed the ritual already. I expected the blood, but I didn't anticipate the fainting bit."

"You could have died," Cedric continued in the same serious tone. "Merlin, when I saw you, I thought you were-" The wizard ran a hand over his face, as if trying to compose himself. "I thought you were dead, Cassandra. And that it was my fault because I left you in that stupid forest when I knew I shouldn't have. I trusted you, and you lied to me."

If Cassandra could blast a hole in the ground and disappear into it, she would. She was used to anger and disappointment, but they felt unbearable coming from the Hufflepuff. He had said those wonderful things to her earlier, and now he looked sad and tired, and it was her fault. She did the only thing she could think of to turn the situation around, and started crying. "I'm so sorry," she said through her tears. "I didn't mean to worry you, I just wanted to do whatever I could to save it."

At that, Cedric knelt on the floor by her bedside and hugged her, saying that it was okay, and that he'd only been concerned for her. Cassandra let herself bask in the warmth of his hug. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been held with such affection by another person. When she opened her eyes, still embracing Cedric, she saw Adrian staring at her, amused and incredulous. "You are unbelievable," her friend soundlessly mouthed at her. "Shut up," she answered in the same manner.

When Cedric pulled back, his cheeks slightly pink, Cassandra wiped her tears with the bed's white linen sheets. The tears hadn't been entirely sincere, but she realized she had needed to shed them.

"I'm glad you're alright," he said finally, still kneeling besides her and now holding her hand between his. He was stroking the back of her hand with his thumb absent-mindedly. Cassandra was hypnotized by the feeling. If she could bottle up Cedric Diggory's physical affection, she would never need to consume anything else. "And as silly as that might sound now, I'm glad you…"

"You glad I'm… what?" She asked, curious to know what the wizard wanted to say. He looked embarrassed for a moment, looking back and forth between her and Adrian.

"Whatever you say to her, she's probably going to repeat to me later," Adrian said.

"Shut up, Adrian," Cassandra said, and then felt a realization hit her like a ton of bricks. "Oh."

"What is it?" Adrian asked anxiously. "Are you in pain? Should I get Pomfrey?"

"You!" She said, and turned to Cedric. "Before Klaus arrived, when we were talking. You were about to confess your feelings to me. That's what the whole speech was about."

"There was a speech?" Adrian asked, interested.

Cassandra turned to her friend. "I am deathly serious here, Pucey. If you don't shut up, I'm going to feed you to the giant squid." She turned back to Cedric, who was blushing madly at this point. "The whole speech about seeing me, that's what it was about, wasn't it? You have feelings for me."

Cedric cleared his throat. "I, yes. That's what it was about. I do. Have feelings for you, I mean. I've had them for a while."

Cassandra smiled. "How long?" She asked him. "How long have you had those feelings for?"

"Last year. When I saw you singing to the baby Mandrake. I thought it was - this is so embarrassing - I started really paying attention to you then. But I thought you and Pucey were together." Cedric answered.

"So you just pined for me from afar?" Cassandra teased. Cedric's ears were red by this point. She nudged him. "Did you build up your courage to talk to me today, hoping I would realize you were the right wizard for me and dump Pucey on his sorry ass?"

"No, I wouldn't in a million years try to break up your relationship, I just - I just wanted to - everyone was being so harsh to you and I wanted to-" At this point, Cedric looked up from the ground at her and realized she was holding in her laughter. "Merlin," he huffed out. "You really are evil." At that, she started to laugh heartily, as did he.

"I'm sorry," she said, still laughing. "I shouldn't have teased you. It was cruel of me."

"I forgive you," Cedric said with an easy smile. "And it's alright. That you don't have feelings for me. I didn't expect you to. I just wanted you to know that not everyone believes the bad things said about you. I don't. And I never will."

When he started to get up, Cassandra grabbed his hands. He stopped, startled, and sat at the edge of her bed when she didn't let him go.

"I don't have feelings for you," she said softly, stroking his thumb with hers, "not yet." At that, Cedric's eyes locked with hers. "But I think I could have," she continued. "If we started being around each other more. If today is any indication, I don't think it wouldn't take me very long."

"You really think so?" Cedric asked, brows furrowed. He was looking at her searchingly, seeming almost afraid to find an answer.

"Yeah, I think so," Cassandra said with a smile. "It was a really great speech."

"That's good. That's really, really good to hear," Cedric said with a matching smile. "I practiced that speech in front of a mirror and everything."

"You didn't," she said, incredulous.

"I did," he said simply.

"That's painfully embarrassing. It's a little endearing, but mostly embarrassing. Why would you ever admit that?" Cassandra asked.

"Because teasing me seems to make you happy," the wizard said. "And being made fun of by a beautiful witch seems like a very small price to pay for your happiness."

"I was expecting to have a miserable day today," Cassandra said. "From the moment I woke up, all I wanted was to go to sleep again, just so tomorrow would come quicker. But instead, I saved a unicorn's life, and I found out a really great guy has feelings for me."

"It sounds like you had a brilliant day," Cedric said with a pleased smile.

"One of the best I've ever had," she replied.


	7. Part 1, Chapter 6

The holidays were coming. The castle and grounds were covered in several feet of pristine white snow, and the cold wind blew sharp and fresh against Cassandra's face when she walked outside. Which, due to the numerous detentions and scoldings she'd received from professors over the incident during her birthday, was not often. The one exception was Professor Kettleburn, who, in his love of magical creatures, felt Cassandra's behavior had been nothing short of commendable. That the only teacher who supported her actions did not even have a third of his limbs left had not escaped the witch.

Nonetheless, she was still worried about what she'd found in the forest. She poured over books on magical creatures, potions, and the dark arts, some of which she had Mimi bring over from the house, some she'd borrowed from the library's restricted section with a pass from Kettleburn, trying to figure out what could harm a unicorn in that way, and why it would want to.

Unicorns possessed very powerful magic properties, and many parts of their bodies - such as their tail hairs and horns, were commonly used in potions and wand-making. But the harvesting of these ingredients did not require the animal to be killed. As a matter of fact, it was well-known amongst potion-makers that concoctions made with ingredients taken from a slain unicorn would often have unpredictable and adverse side-effects. Taking the life of a creature of such concentrated light magic corrupted not only the magic of its killer, but also tainted the magic left in the animal's carcass.

No matter how much she read, it all kept coming back to blood. Cassandra knew that's what the magical creature had been killed for. When she and Cedric had found it, there weren't chunks of flesh missing, and its horn had been intact. What had been missing, were pints of its blood. Her mind had gone to vampires at first, but her research indicated that unicorns would be highly sensitive to the presence of the dark creatures, and could easily outrun them. Besides, the injured unicorn's throat must have have been cut, for the wound she remembered healing was too perfect, too clean to have been done by anything other than a knife or a severing spell.

Other clues started piling in. In one of the books on the dark arts taken from her family library, she found a passage that used the terms 'blood' and 'life essence' interchangeably for unicorns. The same book suggested wizards who seeked to prolong their natural lives could attempt doing so by experimenting with the substance, '_at their own peril_'. An ancient tome taken from the dustiest recesses of the restricted section listed unicorn blood as an ingredient in a potion to regrow limbs severed by dark magic. A note scribbled at the end of the page that contained said recipe informed of the risk of the regrown limb turning against its host and attempting to kill them. There was even a ritual for the creation of a humanoid body for an unnatached soul to latch itself to, written by hand on a journal that belonged to a long dead Lestrange witch, that required not only unicorn blood, but also human bones, flesh and blood.

From all her research, Cassandra eventually concluded the unicorn must've been killed for its blood by a witch or wizard practicing magic of the darkest kind. The knowledge that such a person had been roaming the Forbidden Forest at some point, so close to the castle, was disturbing enough to make her put the subject off her mind entirely for a while. She still had to sleep at night somehow.

Not being able to roam the grouds, and wanting a distraction from her worries, Cassandra threw herself into her classwork. Cedric had taken to sitting with her during Defense and Arithmancy, the two classes besides Herbology the third year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs shared, much to the bewilderment of their classmates. Many theories were shared as to what exactly had happened in the Forbidden Forest to bring the two together, some of which amused the witch more than others.

"What I don't understand," Adrian said to her as they worked on their Potions essays side by side in the Slytherin common room one afternoon. "Is how Diggory is supposed to be the one who saved you from being killed by the centaurs when it was one of them that carried you out of the forest. Doesn't seem like very beastly behavior, giving you back and all."

"Well, given that Firenze is my centaur lover, Adrian, obviously he couldn't bear to watch me being murdered by the rest of his clan," Cassandra answered without looking up from her parchment. Adrian chortled. That particular theory was one of her favourites. Like the mere thought of a Lestrange mating with a beast wouldn't be enough to have her ancestors spinning in their tombs.

That thought, however, led Cassandra's mind to a direction that caused her some measure of anxiety. She had no doubt her grandfather would respect, if not fully approve, her decision to perform a potentially deadly ritual on herself. They both agreed that there were many fates worse than death, and that subjugating oneself to an existence defined by one's fear of it was foolish and useless. His own work as a potion-maker had caused him to test out many potentially fatal potions on himself throughout the years, and the wizard considered the adverse side-effects that experimentation had had on his body an unfortunate, but acceptable price to be paid for the advancement of the science. What Cassandra worried about was her grandfather's thoughts in regards to Cedric Diggory's tentative courtship of her.

Being the future head of the Lestrange family, it was ultimately up to Cassandra to decide what she did and did not find acceptable in a partner and, eventually, in her choice of husband. Nonetheless, she was very much aware of the expectations placed upon her as not only a Lestrange, but also as a Black. If her parents' side had won the war, it was likely an arrangement would have been made for her marriage to her cousin Draco, or some other heir of a pureblood supremacist family. Maybe she would've married a Rosier, like her grandfather had married her late grandmother Druella, or even a son of her uncle Rabastan or of Sirius Black, her first cousin once removed, who had switched loyalties at the end of the war. If she had to give up the Lestrange name after marrying, she found the idea of taking the Black name comforting. They were already her family.

Or maybe, if all that was said about her parents being the Dark Lord's most faithful servants was true, Cassandra would've been saved for the Dark Lord himself. After all, had he won and taken control of the wizarding world, he would've needed an heir to eventually take his place. Cassandra contemplated the thought. Sometimes she wondered what kind of person she would be had she grown up under her parents' influence. Would she have come to worship the Dark Lord as they did? Would the idea of serving him and bearing his children have filled her with joy? Now, the thought made her nauseous.

Cassandra prided herself on being a realist. Despite all the childish fantasies she'd once had about having her family reunited, she knew their imprisonment had granted her freedoms she wouldn't have been afforded otherwise. She was free to make up her own mind on the issue of pureblood superiority or, as she preferred, to avoid taking a stand on the topic entirely, to date freely and even to never marry if she so wished. In a sense, with her family in Azkaban, she was freer than Draco, or any of her pureblood classmates. Being the last of her line, there wasn't a threat of disinheritance hanging over her head for stepping over any arbitrary lines drawn by her family. She could do as she pleased, and when she turned seventeen, the content of the Lestrange vaults would still be hers.

She was free to pursue a relationship with Cedric Diggory, a compassionate, caring wizard, son of a half-blood mother and a father who had not publicly taken a side during the war, too terrified of the Dark Lord and his followers to risk angering him in such a manner. Still, just because dating Cedric wouldn't result in her disinheritance, it didn't mean Cassandra wanted to alienate her grandfather, the only family member she trusted and loved.

Grandfather Cygnus rarely spoke to her about his own views on politics or the war, but he had raised his three daughters to be paragons of pureblood ideals, and threw one of them out of the family when she chose to marry a muggleborn. Cedric's blood would be considered pure enough by most families, but the House of Black was known for its strict standards in that regard. Nothing short of the purest of the Sacred Twenty-Eight was enough for a Black. Ultimately, if she had to choose between staying in her grandfather's good graces or being able to get involved with whoever she wanted, Cassandra's unwillingness to be controlled would trump out her loyalty to the man who had raised her, but she did not want to be forced to make such a choice.

That's what she was thinking about when Mimi came to retrieve her from the train station at the beginning of the holidays. After being apparated to the house and greeting Gibbo and Hux, the two other Lestrange house-elves, Cassandra refreshed herself and walked out of her home, wanting to clear her head before searching for her grandfather, who was probably working in his laboratory.

First, she went to the aviary, and hand-fed the various magical and mundane birds that had to be kept in the spacious but restricted building to avoid being eaten by the various predators in the area. The species that did not do well in captivity would visit the feeding stations outside the building throughout the day, by now used to the easy access to food. Cassandra said hello to Klaus, who had flown back alongside the train, and stunned a few chickens, which she put in a bucket she levitated by her side, and then made her way with him to the woods that surrounded the property.

As they made their way deeper into the woods, Klaus croaked from her shoulder, and pecked at her ear. "You're right," Cassandra said to the raven, and summoned a pair of dragonhide gloves, which she put on. "I'd forgotten. Thank you."

The bird cooed happily and flew away. Cassandra smiled. It was good to be back home.

She started whistling softly as she walked, making up a tune, and soon enough, a bird-like head peaked out from behind a tree, looking at her curiously. The witch stood still, and watched as the half-bird, half-reptile, dragon-like magical beast walked towards her. The snallygaster, small for its kind, stood at about eight feet tall, and its serrated steel fangs shone when the animal opened its mouth. Once they stood about ten feet apart, Cassandra raised her hand, and the beast stopped moving.

"Hello, Sally," Cassandra said while she took a bird from the bucket levitating behind her. "I have something for you."

With a spell, she revived the chicken and then threw it up in the air. The snallygaster moved incredibly fast, snatching its prey from the air, and started chewing it voraciously once it landed back down.

"That's right. You're such a good girl," Cassandra said. She repeated the action a couple more times, until the creature seemed satisfied, and then approached it. She stroked its feathers firmly, and in return the animal headbutted her shoulder with enough force to throw her back a couple steps. "I know," Cassandra said with a laugh, and continued to pet it, touching her nose to its snout. "I missed you too, pretty girl."

After spending some time with Sally, then visiting some of the other creatures that resided in the woods, Cassandra made her way back to the house, now with a spring in her step. When she entered the foyer, she saw her grandfather waiting for her.

"It's nice to see where I stand in your list of priorities, child," The old man said. "Even the beasts get a visit before your grandfather, huh?"

"Says the man who couldn't be bothered to get away from his cauldrons for long enough to pick his granddaughter up from the train station," she answered with a grin. Her grandfather's mouth twitched in a barely concealed smile.

"Go on then, and make yourself ready for dinner. We have much to talk about," he said. Cassandra nodded and went up the stairs to her room.

Once they were at the table and dinner had been served, her grandfather started his interrogation.

"So," he said. "How do you justify me having to find out about my granddaughter being injured from a letter from Severus Snape, of all people?"

"I apologize, grandfather. I should have written to you at once. I wasn't counting on Professor Snape's… promptness in informing you of what had happened. It took me a couple of days to recover fully and write you," Cassandra said.

"I believe Severus was terrified I would consider him personally responsible for your injuries. The Black name isn't what it once was, but I still have considerable sway in the potion-making world. It would not be too hard for me to cause him to be blacklisted, and he knows that," her grandfather said. "Of course, I know better than to expect anyone around you to be able to stop you from doing something once you've set your mind to it."

Cassandra wanted to roll her eyes. Of course Snape's concern would not be for the health of one of his students, but for the consequences to his own reputation if one of his pureblood pupils were to be harmed under his watch. He propably couldn't care less if any of them lived or died, as long as they perished outside of Hogwarts.

"It was a very unwise thing you did, Cassandra," the wizard continued. "Risking your life like that for an animal. Animals are replaceable. You are not. It pains me to think you value yourself so little."

She blinked, then blinked again a few times. When framed like that, her actions sounded beyond irrational. Her grandfather was right. She put her fork down, and looked at him. There was no winning an argument against Cygnus Black.

"I hadn't thought of it like that," she said honestly. "I didn't believe I would die, not really. We were close enough to the school and there was someone coming for me. I was prepared to be hurt, and to bleed, but those things can be healed easily enough."

"And if another creature had scented your blood and chosen to attack you? Injured prey is easy prey, you know that," he said. "There are all manner of beasts residing in that forest. One of them could easily have finished you off before anyone got to you."

"You're right. I could have died. I'm sorry. I won't be so careless in the future," Cassandra answered.

Her grandfather looked at her pointedly. "See that you do. I have no intention of outliving you, child. Besides that, how was your term?"

"Our Defense professor is a fumbling mess. He's solid enough on the theory, which is better than nothing, I suppose, but we haven't lifted our wands once in his classroom, and I don't think we will. Professor McGonagall still doesn't like me, but she doesn't let her bias affect her grading, which is all I can ask for. Professor Babbling was impressed by my rune work and suggested some books for extra reading. The rest is the same. Good. I'm doing my occlumency exercises every day," she said.

"Defense is a lost cause at Hogwarts, we know that," her grandfather said. "You can catch up on your practice during the summer, send an outline of the subjects covered in class this year to Ivanovich so he knows what to include on your lessons."

Cassandra nodded. Boris Ivanovich was a gruff old wizard who'd taught Dark Arts at Durmstrang for many decades before retiring and moving to Italy to live the rest of his days away from his two nemeses - lazy children and the cold. He'd been reluctantly brought out of retirement by her grandfather to tutor her during the summers once Cassandra had informed him of the poor state of Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Art curriculum. He was ruthless, and demanding, and the best teacher she had ever had. She looked forward to her summer lessons.

"There's something else I would like to talk to you about, grandfather," Cassandra said. The older wizard looked at her expectantly. "What do you know about the Diggory family?"

Her grandfather's brows furrowed. "Diggory… Well, there was an Eldritch Diggory who was Minister of Magic in the seventeen hundreds, I believe he was the one who created the Auror recruitment program. And I've dealt with an Amos Diggory a few times at the Ministry, over at the Magical Creatures department. Unremarkable wizard. Why?"

"Amos Diggory has a son. Cedric. He's a third year. We… Well," Cassandra paused, willing herself not to blabber. She was a Lestrange, and Lestranges did not blabber. "He expressed his wish to court me, and I said yes." She said evenly.

Her grandfather cleaned his mouth with his napkin, and sat back on his chair, looking at her. "I see," he said simply.

"His family was neutral during the war, and Cedric's blood is as pure as it gets outside Sacred Twenty-Eight. It might not be what you envisioned for me, but I am already the head of my own family. I would gain very little by marrying some overindulged heir. And I will feed myself to the giant squid before I marry Draco," Cassandra said. She wasn't sure, but she thought she could almost see a smile dancing at the edge of her grandfather's expression.

"Dramatics aside, why do you believe I would rather have you married to your cousin Draco than to this Diggory boy?" He asked.

"Because of everything the House of Black stands for," Cassandra said. "And you did raise my mother."

"I also raised Andromeda," her grandfather answered. She didn't flinch, but it was a near thing. She couldn't remember him ever using her aunt's name, or voluntarily talking about her at all.

The older wizard sighed deeply. "I am an old man, Cassandra, but I do like to think I've learned from my past mistakes. I raised three beautiful, brilliant witches to be everything I'd been taught by my family a proper pureblood witch should be. At no point did it occur to me to ask them what kind of witches they wanted to be. Things just weren't done that way that in our family. And after Druella died giving birth to Narcissa… well, there's no use going into that. Let's just say I wasn't as present in my daughters' lives as I should've been. I didn't listen to them. And because of that, all three went out looking for someone who would. Narcissa found that pompous fool Malfoy and never looked back, Andromeda found the muggleborn, and your mother-" Her grandfather sighed again. "Your mother found the Dark Lord. I lost all three of my daughters in different ways, and it was entirely my fault."

Cassandra wanted to reach out and hold his hand, but she wasn't sure he would welcome the touch. They weren't a particularly physically affectionate family.

"Then one day, the Ministry came knocking on my door and asked me if I could negotiate with my five year old granddaughter, who was holding herself hostage in her own house," he said with a chuckle. "Even then, you knew exactly what you wanted, Cassandra. I will not have you turn your back on me because I refused to listen to you. Recent incidents aside, you have always shown good judgment in your choices. If the Diggory boy is what you want, and you believe his is worthy of you, then you can have him. Of course, I'll need to meet his family and-"

But she didn't let her grandfather finish. Before he could, she did something neither of them could ever remember her doing, and threw her arms around him, hugging him as fiercely as she could. Eventually, the older wizard hugged her back.

"That's alright," he said after a while, and they both sat back on their chairs. Cassandra was smiling at her grandfather. This had gone so much better than she thought it would.

"Thank you, grandfather," she said.

"You're welcome, child," he replied.


	8. Part 1, Chapter 7

Cassandra went back to Hogwarts the day before winter term started. Once she arrived and put her things away, she set out to meet the Weasley twins.

She had struggled picking out Yule gifts for the brothers at first, but once she remembered they were teenage boys almost single-mindedly dedicated to driving authority figures into an early grave, the task had become a lot easier. In the end, she decided on two vials of Polyjuice Potion, taken from her grandfather's stores, which she knew would go a long way in helping them cause chaos and mayhem around the castle.

"We can turn ourselves into Snape," Fred said with glee once he opened the parcel she handed them. "Or Filch. Or Dumbledore. Or- Imagine what we can do with this, George."

"I am, Fred. Cassandra, I could kiss you right now," George replied. When Fred jokingly launched himself at her, she made him lick a patch of wall instead.

After talking to the twins, she headed towards Hufflepuff Basement to see Cedric. They had corresponded during the break, him describing Christmas with his family and her speaking of the traditional Yule rites she and her grandfather observed. She was unreasonably excited to see him again. She realized that in some unconscious level, she'd been holding back in their budding relationship before she could talk to her grandfather about it. Knowing now that pursuing it wouldn't drive an edge between her and the only person she considered family made her almost giddy.

Once she reached the entrance to the basement, she waited outside until a first year showed up, then paid the boy a galeon to fetch the older student.

"That looks so undignified," she said with a laugh as Cedric made his way out of the passageway that led to the Hufflepuff common room. It was tall enough for the average eleven year old to be able to walk through, barely. Anyone taller had to either hunch or crawl their way through. What if there was an emergency and they had to leave at once? Were all the Hufflepuffs supposed to crawl orderly one behind another? If they tried that in her House, the Slytherins would probably trample each other to death.

"Yeah, I don't know why they didn't make it tall enough to walk through. But it's not that bad. It's fun for the firsties," Cedric said good-naturedly. His eyes traveled over Cassandra's face and body, as if he wanted to make sure she looked the same as the last time they had seen each other. When he noticed her watching him look at her, his cheeks pinked slightly, but he had a small, happy smile on his face. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Cassandra replied with a smile of her own, and they both moved in for a hug. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, all that existed was Cedric. Cedric's arms around her waist, Cedric's hands splayed on her back, his scent where her face was pressed against his throat, the delicate way his nose touched the skin behind her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. Merlin, they hadn't even kissed yet. Could someone die from being kissed?

Once they separated, Cedric laced his fingers with hers. He seemed as reluctant to stop touching her as she was to get away from him. "Come on," she said. "I have a place we can talk."

She took him to her meditation spot, under the open sky at the top of the Astronomy tower. Cedric cast a warming spell around them, and they sat down facing each other, their knees touching.

"You're wearing it," Cedric said, and moved to touch the pendant resting on her breastbone, at the end of a delicate silver chain. He touched the small, silver raven for a few moments, until the silver bird woke and took flight, and they both watched the charmed pendant fly around Cassandra at a leisurely pace. After a while, the raven came back to rest on his place on her chest.

"I am," she said with a smile. "I have been since I got it. It's perfect. How are you enjoying your new broom?"

Cedric threw his head back in frustration. "You are unbelievable, you know that? There I was on Christmas morning, thinking I had gotten the girl I like the perfect gift and that she would be so impressed with how thoughtful I am, and then I open her gift to me, and it's a Nimbus Two Thousand."

Cassandra laughed. "I wouldn't worry about it," she said. "I have it on good authority that the girl you like thinks you're very thoughtful. And that she loved the gift you got her. She just happens to have a large budget, and not that many people to buy presents for."

"It's way too expensive. My parents were insistent that I shouldn't accept it," Cedric said. He sounded conflicted.

"You should accept it," Cassandra said. She reached forward, and smoothed out the small frown that had formed between his eyebrows with the pad of her finger. "If not because you want to, then because it would make me happy."

That's all it took to convince him. Cassandra remembered what he'd said to her at the Hospital Wing, about not minding her teasing if it made her happy. She laid in bed that night and replayed their conversation in her head. She'd never had anyone voluntarily put her happiness above their comfort before. Above their family's express wishes. Her own parents had considered their cause more important than their daughter. A part of her felt warm and cherished by Cedric's actions. And another part, dark and unhealthy, wanted to know just how far she could push him. How much she could ask of him before he walked away from her. She went over that thought again and again, like pressing on a bruise to feel it hurt, until she fell asleep.

The weeks that followed were some of the calmest and happiest of Cassandra's life. She studied, hung out with Adrian, and grew closer to Cedric. They went on their first official date on a Hogsmeade trip, and she consoled him after Hufflepuff lost the first match of the term to Gryffindor. She hexed the Weasleys when their teasing over Gryffindor overtaking Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years became too annoying, and made fun of them when her team beat Ravenclaw and her House took its rightful position back again.

Her respite ended when her cousin was caught sneaking around the castle after curfew, and assigned detention by Professor McGonagall as punishment.

"It's not fair!" Draco cried out to her in the common room. She had been practicing a hair-growth spell on a few first-year girls excited by the opportunity to learn advanced beauty spells from an older student when the boy marched into the room and shooed the young witches away. Cassandra had scowled at his presumptuousness, and was now looking at him passively as he complained. "Potter and Weasley were smuggling a dragon out of the castle, and I'm punished for trying to do the right thing."

She rolled her eyes. "It's just the two of us here, Draco, you don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying!" The blonde boy protested. "I overheard them talking about it, and saw the dragon in Hagrid's hut through the window, I swear!"

"I don't doubt that part. A few students smuggling a dragon would not be the most outrageous thing to ever have happened in this school, not by a long stretch. And it makes sense that Weasley would be involved, since his brother works with them. It's the whole 'doing the right thing' I'm skeptical about." Cassandra replied.

Draco huffed, and sat down besides her, sullen. "At least they got detention as well. Longbottom and that know-it-all Granger too. Does Weasley really have a brother who works with dragons?"

Cassandra tensed at the mention of Neville Longbottom. "Yes," she answered. "Charlie, graduated last year. Everyone thought he'd play Quidditch professionally, but he went to work at a dragon reserve in Romania."

"Typical Weasley," Draco scoffed. "They have no sense."

She didn't protest. Even if she was friends with the twins, no one could accuse them of being particularly sensible. She turned to her cousin. "Look, Draco, it's just detention. Maybe you'll write lines, or polish a few trophies, but it's hardly the end of the world. I've done plenty of them."

But she'd been wrong. The morning after his detention, Draco told her the tale of a hooded figure drinking the blood of a slain unicorn in the Forbidden Forest, and Harry Potter being rescued by the same centaur that had saved her. Cassandra's blood went cold.

"I can't believe this," she muttered to herself as she marched to Professor Kettleburn's office. She didn't know where her fear ended and her rage begun. Knowing that not one, but two unicorns had been killed in the Forbidden Forest within the week, someone had still made the decision to send a group of first years into those woods with nothing but a half-giant and a scared dog. As a result, those first years had almost been attacked by the dark wizard responsible for the butchering happening so close to the castle.

Agitated as she was, Cassandra drew her wand as soon as she felt a hand grabbing her arm from behind her. She was halfway through casting a blasting curse when she realized it was Cedric trying to get her attention.

"What do you think you're doing?" She snapped at him, freeing her arm from his hold. "I almost cursed you!"

"I noticed," Cedric said. He was breathing deeply, as if he'd been running. "Klaus flew into the common room and wouldn't stop pecking me until I came with him. I have no idea how he even got into the basement. I was worried something had happened to you."

"Is that why you're bleeding?" Cassandra asked, noticing the blood smeared on Cedric's ears, and the wizard nodded, swiping at them distractedly.

"What's going on?" He asked. "You seem upset."

"I don't have time to explain now," she answered. "I need to go talk to Kettleburn. It has to do with the dead unicorns in the Forbidden Forest."

"Unicorns? As in more than the one you saved?" Cedric said, his eyebrows going up.

"Yes," Cassandra said.

"Alright. Lead the way," he replied. Cassandra looked at him for a moment. She didn't really mind him coming with her. She didn't trust many people to have her back, but she did trust Cedric. What she didn't trust was that he would still like her after he saw what she was going to do. She took a deep breath. If that was going to happen, it might as well happen now, before she became too attached to him.

"Cassandra!" Professor Kettleburn exclaimed once he saw her entering his office. "It's good to see you, my dear! And who is your friend?"

"This is Cedric Diggory, my boyfriend," she said. She felt him jerk in surprise at the qualifier before stepping forward and introducing himself to the eccentric Care of Magical Creatures teacher. She and Cedric hadn't defined their relationship yet, but she preferred her rejection to come from a boyfriend rather than a friend who had confessed his feelings for her. Hating him would be easier that way.

"How can I assist the two of you today?" Kettleburn asked jovially.

"How many unicorns have been found dead in the Forbidden Forest since the beginning of the school year?" She asked, going straight to the point.

"Aah," the teacher said. "I see you've been informed of the creatures found this week. Not counting the one you saved, four, I believe."

"After all the censure I got for doing that, professor, you can imagine my surprise when I found out someone saw fit for the groundskeeper to take a group of first years that included my eleven year old cousin, into the forest at the dead of night yesterday to find the latest one," Cassandra said with steel in her voice. "Apparently it's fine for students to get themselves killed in the Forbidden Forest, as long as it's during a detention."

Kettleburn looked deeply uncomfortable. "My dear, I believe all Rubeus was trying to do was give the students a valuable learning opportunity. I am sure no one was hurt."

Cassandra felt Klaus landing on her shoulder, and focused on the feeling of him to calm herself down. She was not going to scream, or hex her teacher. "There is a dark wizard butchering unicorns in the forest to drink their blood," she said calmly. "Any wizard worth their wand would have figured that out months ago. And instead of calling the Aurors, it was decided that a bunch of children should be put in harm's way?"

"My dear-" The teacher started.

"Professor Kettleburn," she interrupted him, "I understand you are not to blame for this. That's not why I'm here. I would very much appreciate, however, if you could call Mr. - what is the half-giant's name?"

"Hagrid," Cedric said.

"Mr. Hagrid here so we can talk. I'm strongly considering encouraging my grandfather and my uncle Lucius Malfoy to lodge formal complaints against Mr. Hagrid and whoever else approved yesterday's little excursion with the Board of Governors, unless someone explains to me what on Merlin's name is going on in this school. I'm sure you understand the gravity of the consequences that can arise from the opening of such a complaint."

"Rubeus is a good man, Ms. Lestrange," Kettleburn protested. "He's brilliant with animals, and a great asset to this school."

Cassandra raised one eyebrow skeptically, and said nothing.

Twenty minutes later, she was facing Rubeus Hagrid. The half-giant squirmed in his seat, trying to make himself comfortable on the too-small chair.

"I have heard from people whose opinions I hold in high regard, Mr. Hagrid, that you are very passionate about the well-being of magical creatures," she started.

"Aye, that I am. An' ye can call me Hagrid. Mr. Hagrid was me father, may he rest in peace," the large man said.

Cassandra nodded. "I only wished your nurturing nature extended itself to human children, Hagrid."

The man stiffened. "I dinna ken what yer implying, but I'd never hurt a child!"

"Yet, you saw fit to take five eleven year olds into the Forbidden Forest last night, when there's someone in there dangerous and unhinged enough to have been killing unicorns for months!" Cassandra said angrily.

"The children were safe with me and Fang!" Hagrid replied defensively. "I would'na have let Harry an' the others get hurt."

"Except you weren't with all of the students throughout your visit to forest, were you? You separated them. And your cowardly dog took off as soon as the dark wizard who's been drinking the blood of those unicorns tried to attack Harry Potter and my cousin Draco," Cassandra shot back.

"Harry was fine!" Hagrid replied shakily. "Firenze stepped in an' got 'im to safety."

"Yes, I heard that. The same centaur who carried me out of the forest months ago. He must be the designated rescuer of students in life-threatening danger among his heard. What if he hadn't gotten there in time? The death of the boy-who-lived would've been on you," she said heatedly.

Hagrid paled. "Professor Dumbledore told me nothing bad would happen! That Harry would be fine."

Cassandra sat back, having gotten part of the information she wanted. "So it was Professor Dumbledore who approved yesterday's excursion? That makes sense, since as groundskeeper it isn't within your purview to decide how students are to serve detentions."

"Professor Dumbledore is a great wizard!" Hagrid exclaimed. "He would never put students in real danger!"

"Hmm," she replied noncommittally. Cassandra had no idea what Professor Dumbledore would or would not do. She hardly knew the headmaster. "I assume Professor Kettleburn told you of my intention to have mine and Draco's grandfather, as well as Draco's father, lodge complaints with the Board of Governors against the people involved in last night's mess?"

"I dinna care how much money yer lot have, ye can't touch Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid said.

"That's true," she conceded, "but the same can't be said for you."

Hagrid looked terrified at the threat. Kettleburn looked appalled. Cassandra didn't risk looking at Cedric at all.

"Unless," she said.

"Unless?" Hagrid asked, his booming voice sounding small and hopeful.

"You help me understand exactly what is going on. Tell me everything you know about what's happening in the forest," Cassandra replied. "I put my own life in jeopardy to save one of those unicorns, Hagrid. I don't understand why the school is allowing this to go on. I imagine it must hurt you to see them harmed as well."

The large man sighed with resignation. "I dinna ken much. I asked Professor Dumbledore about it every time I found one of 'em hurt, an' he told me we could'na act yet. Dinna tell me why. When I told him 'bout the blood I found yesterday, he told me to take Harry and the other kids with me to find the poor thing. I asked the centaurs if they'd seen anything, but gettin' a straight answer from one of 'em is like pulling teeth."

"What did the centaurs say? Exactly?" She asked.

"Summat 'bout how Mars was bright. That the innocents are always the first to be harmed. An' that they could'na interfere in wizarding folks affairs. That's all I remember, I swear." Hagrid said.

Cassandra believed him. Centaurs were notorious for their ability to predict the future by reading the movement of the stars, as well as for their contempt for humans, muggles and wizards alike.

Apparently, the responsibility for the mishandling of the situation in the Forbidden Forest could be laid at the headmaster's feet. Unfortunately, there truly wasn't anything she or her grandfather could do about that. She couldn't think of anyone with the courage to censure the powerful wizard, even for such harebrained actions.

She thanked Hagrid for his cooperation, assuring him she would make sure her family didn't move against him or Professor Dumbledore for the matter, then left Kettleburn's office with Klaus on her shoulder and Cedric behind her. She felt bone-deep weariness all throughout her body. She kept walking until she found a bench far away from prying ears, and sat down. Cedric stood still in front of her, silent.

"Just say it," she said. She sounded tired, and her words had none of the fire they had had in her previous conversation.

"That was… I don't want to use the world cruel," Cedric said, looking at her. He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes, seeming troubled.

"Harsh. It was harsh," Cassandra offered. "Cruelty requires enjoyment, and I assure you there was nothing about what I just did that I enjoyed."

"Then why did you do it?" Cedric asked.

"What I said is true. I figured out months ago that the unicorn we found had been attacked by a dark wizard for its blood. The blood of a unicorn can be used to keep someone alive, when nothing else will. But hurting the animal corrupts the soul of the wizard. It's foul and unconscionable dark magic. Only someone deeply disturbed would try it," she answered.

"Why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell me?" Cedric said.

"I didn't know whoever did it was still in the Forbidden Forest," Cassandra said. "Until this morning, I didn't even know any other unicorns had been harmed. I looked into what could've injured the one I helped because I was curious. And since it wasn't particularly obscure information, I thought Dumbledore and the other teachers already knew, and had handled the whole thing quietly. As they should have."

Cedric sighed, and sat down beside her. "So when your cousin told you about what happened last night, you… lost it?"

"I wouldn't say I lost it, but I was furious, yes. I wanted to know why he was sent there, and by whom. And I figured scaring the groundskeeper would be the easiest way to get that information. He's not exactly known for his genius," she said honestly.

Cassandra thought about the pitiful noises the bleeding unicorn Klaus had led her and Cedric to had made, and how scared the dying creature had been of them. "Do you remember how vile it was? How we cried when we saw it? The one we found?"

"Yes," Cedric said quietly. "It was the saddest thing I've ever seen."

"Whoever did that is still out there. They're just kids, Cedric. Eleven year olds. They should not under any circumstances have been sent into that forest. They could've died. Harry Potter and his friends aren't my responsibility, but Draco is my cousin. My grandfather would mourn him just as he would mourn me," Cassandra said. "And Neville Longbottom-" Cedric was looking at her attentively. Her hands were shaking, and forming fists so tight her nails were cutting into her palms. "I've been keeping an eye on him since the beginning of the year. The boy can barely tie his shoes, and they still sent him into those woods."

"Why do you care about what happens to Neville Longbottom?" Cedric asked softly.

Cassandra let out an incredulous laugh. "Are you serious? Everyone keeps asking me that, why do I care about him. How could I not care about him?" She asked intensely. "I owe him an incalculable debt. If it were the other way around, and his family had tortured my parents until they went insane, he would be dead by now."

Cedric looked stricken. "You don't mean that."

"I do. I would have killed him, and his grandmother, and anyone else his parents loved. If anyone did something like that that to my grandfather, or to Adrian, or to you, I would kill them, Cedric. I would destroy them and everything they care about, because they took something of mine. That's who I am. The girl you thought you had feelings for doesn't exist. You made her up in your head. This is the real me. I'm harsh, and vengeful, and I'll go to unthinkable extremes for the people I love. You decide now if that's someone you want in your life." Cassandra said, angry and unwavering, and walked away before Cedric could see her cry.

* * *

_A.N.: I have a bad habit of posting a chapter, then deciding I'm not completely happy with it and reworking it before posting the next one. So if you're following this story as it comes out it might be worth checking out the previous chapter whenever a new one is posted to see if I did that. Sorry, I know it's annoying, but my brain is mush._

_This chapter is dedicated to guest reviewers Clara and Opnrewo - you have no idea how motivating your kind reviews are. And to Klara, I promise, CC is completely disregarded in this house. _


	9. Part 1, Chapter 8

Cassandra ran to her dorm room, and didn't cry. She thought she would, when she finally told Cedric what she'd been thinking since the day he confessed his feelings for her - that he didn't know the real her, and would no longer care for her once he did. But every time she felt her eyes filling up with tears, a self-aware part of her made her bark out an involuntary laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Her parents were in Azkaban, there was a dark wizard roaming around her school, and she wanted to cry over a boy who hadn't stopped her when she had walked away from him.

She believed that if she were not the result of centuries of inbreeding, not the daughter of Death Eaters, she and Cedric might have been great together. But her temperament belonged to a Lestrange. Cedric had believed her to be kindhearted and _good_ despite her family name, and because of his regard for her, and the lure of the tenderness he had shown her, she had been willing to be that, for him. Subtract the overintensity and the penchant for violence from a Lestrange, and you get someone willing to do anything for those they're devoted to. But such restraint didn't come naturally to her.

Yesterday, she had needed to scare Hagrid to get him to tell her what she wanted to know about Draco's and the other first years' detention in the Forbidden Forest, and so she had. She wanted to resent Cedric for having a problem with that. It wasn't as if he was close to the groundskeeper. But if he hadn't cared, he wouldn't be Cedric, and whatever was Cedric, whatever he was composed of, she wanted. They dealt in different values. For his sentimentality, she would give him her strength, and her loyalty. But in the end, that wasn't enough to balance their accounts. He was going to end things with her. Because he was a better person than her, better than any wizard she knew, the nearly perfect guy. Touchingly perfect.

The next day, during lunch, she sat on the opposite side from her usual spot, with her back to the rest of the tables. She didn't want to risk accidentally locking eyes with a certain Hufflepuff. Adrian took the seat by her side.

"I just can't believe it," Adrian said for the upteenth time. Cassandra had told him what had happened while pushing her food around her plate. "He's not going to break up with you over this. He thinks the sun shines out of your ass, it's actually nauseating."

"Not anymore," she said glumly. "He wasn't even mad at me, Adrian, he was- It was like he couldn't reconcile what he'd seen with the person he made me up to be in his head. He's probably disgusted by me now."

"I don't get it," Adrian said. "You've been glued to each other for months. How could he have not figured out you're… you? No offence, but anyone who's around you on a regular basis can tell you're not particularly nice. Or harmless. It's half the fun of being your friend. I thought he was into that, opposites attract and all. Maybe he thought-"

"What does it matter what he thought of me before?" Cassandra cut him off impatiently. "He knows exactly what I am now."

"Maybe we're just not meant for it," Adrian said after a while. She looked at him, trying to understand the meaning of his words. He kept looking ahead, not meeting her eyes. "Love, romance. The whole thing."

"Who do you mean by we? The two of us? Purebloods, Slytherins?" Cassandra asked.

Adrian shrugged. "Pureblood Slytherins? I don't know. Who do we even know with parents who married for love?"

"The Weasleys," Cassandra said. "My aunt Andromeda was disowned for marrying a muggleborn she fell in love with."

She searched her mind, but couldn't think of anyone else. The adults in her social circle had all either married someone their parents had chosen for them, or chosen to marry someone they knew their parents would approve of.

Adrian was now using his fork to angrily stab the food on his plate. "My parents married because they were both half-bloods who found each other agreeable. They want me to find a nice pureblood girl, or maybe a half-blood girl with good connections, so I can marry her and take over the family business. Maybe that's what I should do. Maybe that's all we get. Love is for poor people, and Hufflepuffs."

Cassandra listened to her friend silently. She didn't know what to say, or to think. Maybe he was right. For the first time in a while, Cassandra ached with how much she missed having a mother. Mothers were supposed to teach their daughters about these things, weren't they? About love, and relationships. She wished she had a mother she could talk to about Cedric, and Adrian's situation. She couldn't fathom what her own mother would say about either, if they could talk.

"If that turns out to be the case, then we'll just get married to each other. We can sleep in separate bedrooms, and ignore each other's affairs like proper purebloods," Cassandra said. "You'll have to take my last name, though. I'm not ending my line to become a Pucey."

The two friends smiled at each other for the first time since the beginning of their conversation.

"Are you heading to class?" Adrian asked, getting up from the table. She shook her head. "All right, I'll cover for you with McGonagall. And if Snape asks, you were indisposed. Witch problems."

Some time after lunch, feeling restless and tired of pacing in the common room, Cassandra headed out to the Quidditch field.

Once she got there, she positioned the tree bludgers she had brought, under a freezing charm, in her usual practice setup - in a triangle formation, each at one edge of the enormous field. She mounted her broom and kicked off from the ground, hard. Forty feet up in the air, hovering right at the center of the triangle formed by the bludgers, she took her wand out and performed three counterspells in quick succession, aiming at the frozen iron balls. She swiftly tucked her wand into her boot, and raised her bat.

When her bat smashed against the first bludger flying at lightning-fast speed towards her face, Cassandra felt her teeth rattle. The shock of the impact felt like relief. The ball shot like a meteor away from her. Before she could watch it make its way back, she dove down quickly, in order to avoid a second bludger coming from behind her straight for her spine, that she had sensed more than seen.

She darted around the field, weaving and twisting in the air so fast she was almost a blur, escaping and hitting bludgers. It was glorious. In one especially satisfying move, she managed to stop one of the heavy iron balls speeding towards by hitting it with another, well-aimed one. When the two bludgers collided, they cracked like thunder. At one point, one of the balls hit her left shoulder painfully, almost throwing her off her broom, but she kept going.

Cassandra hit brutally and efficiently, keeping the center line that ran through her head, back and hip straight, her rear arm bent and elbow tucked in at a ninety degree angle, and used her entire body to generate power when she swinged, rather than just her arms. She wasn't as physically strong as most beaters, who were usually male, but she made up for her size with technique and speed.

She kept going for as long as she could. Her whole body ached and she was drenched in sweat, but she felt alive. She had just sent a bludger in the direction of the lake, when at the edge of her peripheral vision, she saw another one coming blindingly fast at her from her right. When she turned and raised her bat to swing, she was startled by the feeling of an iron ball colliding brutally against the middle right side of her back. She was lurched forward by the impact, and was still trying to catch her breath when the bludger she'd forgotten about hit her in the face, throwing her off her broom.

She was woken up by the feeling of something poking at her face. She opened her eyes and realized it was Klaus, perched on her breastbone, who'd been gently trying to bring her out of unconsciousness. She pet the raven gratefully. After making sure his witch was alright, he jumped from her chest to the ground, staying by her side.

She looked up at the sky, and noticed black spots swimming in her vision. She blinked a few times, trying to clear them away, and realized some of those spots were the bludgers, now flying aimlessly above her. She drew her leg up weakly and pulled her wand from her boot, then aimed a freezing spell at each of the three balls. They stopped moving and fell to the ground one by one with heavy thuds.

After a minute, she started assessing the damage from her fall. She had a split lip and her mouth tasted like blood. She propped herself up on her elbows and turned her head to spit out the blood filling up her mouth on the grass. She must've bit her tongue on her way down. Her arms and legs were sore, but otherwise fine. There was a knot forming in the back of her head, her cheekbone felt like it was going to explode, and she could feel a sharp, stabbing pain on her back. Broken rib. She could go to the infirmary and endure Madam Pomfrey's fussing while she was healed, or take one of her grandfather's bone mending potions and be miserable for the rest of the week while her other injuries healed naturally. Yeah, she would take the potion she knew was somewhere in her trunk.

Cassandra took a deep breath, wincing at the pain that accompanied the movement, and looked up at the sky again. Her body hurt, but her mind was quiet for the first time since her fight with Cedric. She watched the clouds moving slowly, enjoying the peaceful moment. The moon was visible in the sky, despite it being the middle of the afternoon. She stared at it, trying to figure out why that nagged at the back of her mind. Hagrid had said something about the sky, hadn't he? She recalled their conversation, than sat up sharply once she remembered exactly what; her broken rib screamed at her, but she ignored it. The centaurs had repeatedly told Hagrid that 'Mars was bright' that night. Centaurs were famously skilled at diving the fates through stargazing. That had to mean something.

She gathered her training equipment and walked back to the castle. On the way to Slytherin Dungeon, she passed by students who looked at her face with concern, without noticing them. She had let herself be distracted by the drama with her not-boyfriend, and forgotten what the purpose of her interrogation of the school's groundskeeper had been in the first place - to understand what was happening in Forbidden Forest, and how it might affect her and the people she cared about at Hogwarts.

After taking the bone mending potion she summoned from her trunk, she sent Klaus to find Adrian while she showered and changed robes.

"Did you bring it?" Cassandra said as she got to the sofa her friend was sitting on, waiting for her.

"Merlin, Cassandra!" Adrian shrieked once he saw her. Before she could say anything, he got up and dragged her hurriedly to a secluded space in the common room, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to them. "Did you hurt anyone?" He asked her quietly.

"Did I hurt anyone?" Cassandra repeated.

Adrian looked at her intently, then gestured at her bruised face. "I'm guessing whoever did that to you is lying in a pool of their own blood somewhere in the castle. We can go to Snape, I'll tell him I saw them attack you first. It wouldn't be the first time someone tried."

Once Cassandra understood the meaning of Adrian's words, she wanted to hug him. "First of all, I would die for you, Pucey, know that. But we won't need to arrange any cover-ups today. I got knocked out by a bludger while I was practicing earlier. The book. Did you bring it?"

"Yeah," Adrian said. "It's on the couch."

Cassandra sat down, grabbed her friend's copy of _Unfogging the Future _and got to work.

"What do you need my Divination book for? You said it's a useless class," Adrian asked.

"Maybe I spoke too soon," Cassandra said distractedly while she flipped through the book's pages. When she noticed Adrian's incredulous look, she rolled her eyes. "What? I was wrong, there, I said it. There's no class you can take to become a Seer. You either are, or you aren't. But you can learn enough to be able to interpret someone else's prediction, even if you don't have the Sight. Therefore, the subject as a whole is not useless."

"Whose?" Adrian asked, grasping her reason for her sudden interest in the subject.

"The centaurs in the forest. Found it," Cassandra exclaimed, reading bits and pieces of the passage she'd been looking for aloud as she skimmed through the text. "Mars… named after the Roman god of war… rules over willpower and the urge to violence… symbolizes war, hatred, virility, masculinity…"

"That doesn't sound good," Adrian said.

"No, it doesn't," Cassandra agreed. "The centaurs kept saying that 'Mars was bright' that night. Could that have meant they had predicted violent acts were going to be committed?"

"A unicorn was killed, and your cousin said whatever did it tried to go for Harry Potter. Those are violent acts," Adrian said.

"Whoever did it," Cassandra corrected him. "You know what I don't get? Centaurs are supposed to be territorial to the point of violence, but they let a dark wizard roam their forest murdering innocent creatures at will? It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe they're scared of this dark wizard. You said it would take someone seriously twisted to drink unicorn blood to stay alive," Adrian replied.

"An entire herd afraid of one wizard on the brink of death?" Cassandra mused. "I don't think so. There has to be another reason."

"We could ask Professor Trelawney," Adrian suggested. "Even if she's not a real Seer, she might know what the thing about Mars means. Or how centaurs choose to go about acting on their predictions. She's been teaching that class for ages."

After they knocked on her office door, the teacher greeted the two students with a glazed look in her eyes, saying she had expected them all afternoon. If that was the case, Cassandra thought when she stepped into the room, she could've aired out the place a little. As it was, heavy curtains blocked out the sunlight, and loose colored fabrics were thrown haphazardly over pieces of gaudy, old-fashioned furniture. Candles floated above them, creating shadows that moved randomly around the dimly lit room. With the addition of the sickly sweet scent that permeated the space, the Divination professor's office was an onslaught to the senses.

It took very little time in the presence of Sybill Trelawney for them to realize she would be of no help at all. The witch spoke in a soft, ethereal voice, and talked circles around the subjects Cassandra brought up, without ever giving a direct answer to her questions. She regurgitated the explanation on the influence of Mars that could be found in the book used in her class, didn't seem to know much about centaurs, and spent an inordinate amount of time talking about her great-great-grandmother, a famous Seer with whom Cassandra apparently shared her first name.

"She's a loon," Cassandra mouthed to Adrian behind the teacher's back. She had insisted on making them tea, so she could read their fates in the dregs before they went back to their common room, and was blabbing about the oncoming death of a Ravenclaw girl she had apparently foretold at the beginning of the school year. Adrian snorted silently and nodded his head in agreement.

They politely drank the tea, swirled the dregs, per Professor Trelawney's instructions, then drained their cups and handed them to her. She started with Adrian's, staring into the teacup while rotating it clockwise.

"A very interesting cup," The teacher said softly. "A frog… that means a significant spiritual transformation is coming."

Cassandra and Adrien hummed, pretending to be greatly interested in what she said.

"A pair of glasses… you are being fooled by someone close to you," she continued.

"Wow," Adrian said sardonically. Cassandra pressed her lips tight to keep herself from laughing.

"And a knife… there is someone in your life who doesn't belong there, dear. I do believe you will experience an extraordinary improvement in your spirits once you eliminate a traitorous friend from your circle, Mr. Pucey," the Divination teacher said pointedly. Cassandra smiled to herself, wondering if she was supposed to be this traitorous friend.

"I will, professor, of course," Adrian replied.

"Now to your fate, Ms. Lestrange," Professor Trelawney said in her dreamlike tone. She lifted the second teacup in the air and rotated it delicately for a moment, gazing at its bottom. Cassandra and Adrian were sharing an amused look when they were startled by the sound of breaking china. Cassandra looked back at Trelawney, who was now staring lifelessly at her, teacup no longer in her hands. When she spoke, the guttural sound of her voice made the hair on the back of Cassandra's neck stand up. _"Cassandra Lestrange… Forced into battle, the war's greatest killer you'll become… Twice you'll lose your family, and twice you'll choose your targets in those you find responsible for the slaughter of your loved ones… Bound in a covenant, only death will undo the knot you join in."_

At once, Trelawney seemed to wake up from her trance. "Oh!" The Seer exclaimed. "I seem to have dropped your teacup, how clumsy of me. Maybe we can leave your reading for another time? You can always come by my office, I do love visits."

Cassandra stared at the teacher, speechless.

"Holy shit," Adrian said.

* * *

_A.N.: This chapter is dedicated to bolshe, walaloo3600 and everyone else in the HPfanfic discord who's been supportive of this story. You guys are absolutely nuts, but I wouldn't have the drive I do to keep writing it without your feedback and encouragement._


	10. Part 1, Chapter 9

_"Cassandra Lestrange… Forced into battle, the war's greatest killer you'll become… Twice you'll lose your family, and twice you'll choose your targets in those you find responsible for the slaughter of your loved ones… Bound in a covenant, only death will undo the knot you join in."_

Those words kept ringing in Cassandra's ears. There was a war coming. She would lose her family twice, somehow. And she would become a killer. A killer like her father and her uncle Rabastan. A killer like her mother, Bellatrix Lestrange, who'd once called herself the Dark Lord's most faithful servant, in front of the entire Wizengamot. Cassandra thought about how horrified she'd been, at eight years old, when she'd read transcripts of the Death Eater trials from the war, that she'd asked her grandfather to get copies of. Before coming to Hogwarts, she used to re-read them every year on her birthday. Back then, she had wanted to remind herself of all the terrible things that had been done in the name of the cause her family had been so utterly devoted to, all the reasons why she shouldn't miss their presence in her life. But fate had decided that none of the lessons she'd tried to teach herself, about right and wrong and what lines shouldn't be crossed, would help her. In the end, Cassandra Lestrange would prove herself her mother's daughter.

She knew it wasn't a matter of if the prophecy would come true, only of when. Many witches and wizards, herself included, harbored a general distrust of divination. Most practitioners of the art were either clever charlatans or hopeless fools. But not even the most skeptical would dismiss a prophecy given by a true Seer. It was common knowledge that the word of prophecies always held importance, even if that importance wasn't easily or immediately apparent. Her only hope was a bastard hope, that Sybill Trelawney wasn't a real Seer, but a mad teacher playing a cruel joke at her expense.

After Trelawney had said those blasted words, Cassandra had run back to the dungeons, Adrian hot in her heels. They had argued wordlessly in the Slytherin common room, but he'd understood she needed time by herself to process what had happened, and let her go to her dorm room without too much protest. She had immediately written a letter to her grandfather detailing exactly what had happened, and summoned Mimi to deliver it to him. She sat in her bed, right leg bouncing frantically as she waited for his reply. It came two hours later in a letter given to her by Mimi, who, sensing her distress, insisted on staying by her Mistress' side as she read it.

_My dear child,_

_I have verified that Sybill Trelawney is in fact the great-great-granddaughter of a genuine Seer by the name of Cassandra Trelawney. The trance-like state in which she communicated and her failure to remember speaking the words after coming out of it also seem to indicate this prophecy might be authentic, according to the specialist I have reached out to. _

_He also informed me there has long been rumor of a chamber within the Ministry of Magic - most likely, in the Department of Mysteries, where records of all true prophecies made in Britain are supposedly archived. I will look further into this, and find out if such a system exists, and if so, whether the subject of a prophecy might inquire as to the existence of an equivalent record. I will write to you again as soon as I have this information. _

_I do not believe you need to be told this, but I encourage you to exercise discretion in regards to this matter, for your own protection. Focus on finishing your school year. We will deal with this situation soon enough. _

_Your grandfather, _

_Cygnus Black III_

Cassandra put the parchment down, grabbed a pillow to bury her face in, then bit it as hard as she could to stop herself from screaming. She stayed like that for a long time, face-down in her bed, her entire body coiled with tension. Her hope of the Divination teacher being a fraud was squashed by her grandfather's words.

After a while, she felt the soft bristles of a hairbrush caressing her scalp.

"Mimi will take care of her Mistress," the house-elf said firmly, while brushing her hair. With every gentle brush, Cassandra felt a little bit of tension leaving her body. "Mimi will protect her, just like she did when we was keeping the nosy wizards out of the house. Mimi won't let anyone hurt her Mistress Cassandra."

The witch let herself be lulled by the familiar comfort of Mimi's care, feeling her heart ache in her chest. "Will you sleep here with me tonight, Mimi? Like we used to do when I was little?" Cassandra asked, with her eyes still closed.

"Mimi would be most pleased to. But Mistress will stop being so sad, or she'll break Mimi's heart," the house-elf replied.

"I'm not sad, Mimi," Cassandra said quietly, "I'm scared."

The next day, Cassandra decided she would heed her grandfather's advice, and go back to attending her classes. Exams would happen very soon, and she might as well focus on that for the time being. She had just finished braiding and pinning up her hair, and was wondering if she should go to Madam Pomfrey for a bruise pomade to erase the black eye she'd gotten as a courtesy from the bludger that had knocked her out the day before, when she heard someone banging impatiently on the bathroom door.

"What?" She snapped at her dorm mate.

"Prefect Farley wants to talk to you." The girl replied in a bored tone.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. She was probably going to be questioned about her absences. When she stepped out of her dorm room, Gemma Farley was leaning against a wall, looking bored. The fifth year raised an eyebrow at Cassandra's bruised face, but didn't comment on it.

"There's a Hufflepuff boy outside the common room entrance asking for you, and he's about to get hexed," the prefect said.

"Thank you," Cassandra said and took off in that direction, not waiting for a reply. What was Cedric thinking, loitering outside the Slytherin common room? There were many of her housemates whose favorite pastime was harassing students from the other Houses, Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs especially. A Hufflepuff walking up to the hidden entrance would be seen as a challenge by many of them. The thought of a six or seventh year attacking Cedric made her walk even faster.

She recognized Cassius Warrington first. He had Cedric against a wall, his wand under the Hufflepuff's chin. Lucian Bole and Peregrine Derrick, two fourth years that she had competed against for her position as Slytherin Beater for two years in a row with success, flanked the boy she sat besides during Care of Magical Creatures. Cassius seemed to be taunting Cedric, who was looking at him stoically, not responding to the provocations. There was a small crowd gathering around them, watching. She walked quietly until she stood a step behind the three Slytherins hounding Cedric.

"Do you really think-" Cassius sneered.

"What?" Cassandra interrupted. Every single head in the corridor turned to look at her. "Does he think what, Warrington?"

Cassius turned to look at her, still keeping his wand under Cedric's chin and his left hand on his chest, pressing him against the wall. She ignored her classmate and locked eyes with Cedric. His eyes traveled from her black eye to her split lip, and he frowned. She tried to ask him if he was ok with a look, and he nodded slightly, reassuring her.

"Diggory here was looking for you. Says he's your boyfriend," Cassius said. "I don't know if you've been slumming, Cassandra, but you should tell your pet he better know his place."

In one smooth, practiced movement, Cassandra took a step forward and with her left hand, grabbed Cassius by the back of his neck, pressing her thumb and the tip of her middle finger painfully down on the pressure points right under the base of the boy's head. In the same continuous movement, she quickly took advantage of the body spasm caused by the pain of her hold to snatch Warrington's wand from his right hand with hers, while kicking against the back of his knee to make him drop to the ground.

In about two seconds, Cassandra had Cassius Warrington on his knees, his muscles tensing with the pain caused by the relentless pressure she was exerting over the nerves in the back of his neck, while she pointed his own wand at his head. She ordered the two fourth years who had been aiding him to step back, and once they did, turned herself and Cassius around until she stood with her back against Cedric's front, shielding him from the small crowd watching them.

"Just for the record, Warrington, Cedric is my boyfriend." she said, "But you already knew that, didn't you? Or do you think I haven't noticed the way you stare at me when he and I are together?"

When Cassius didn't say anything, she pressed down on his neck harder. He gasped. "He's not good enough for you," the boy said, his voice wavering.

The words made her hackles rise. "And you think you are?" She giggled mockingly. "I am the last scion of the Lestrange family, and an heir of the House of Black. The wealth and purity of my lines can be traced back to the Middle Ages. You're nothing, Warrington. A nobody from a family of nobodies. So you better know **your **place."

She released her grip on Cassius' neck, shoving him forward so he sprawled on the floor. He got up quickly, backing into the crowd and looking at her hatefully. "This is a warning to every single person in this House," she said, addressing the Slytherin students looking at her. "Cedric Diggory is my property. You insult him, and I'll consider it an insult against me. You attack him, and I'll retaliate. You know who my parents are. You've heard what I can do. Whatever horrible things you fear someone doing to you, I promise I can do worse."

Right then, she felt one of Cedric's hands on the middle of her back, steadying. She used the feeling of his palm between her shoulder blades to anchor herself, letting go of the anger that was pumping through her blood, red and hot. She dropped Warrington's wand at his feet and reached back to offer Cedric her hand. Once he accepted it, and she led them through the crowd, up the stairs and out of Slytherin Dungeon wordlessly.

She kept walking with him by her side, their hands clasped, until they were out of the castle. When they reached the shade of a tree where they were sure no one would overhear them, Cedric turned to her, and held her face in his hands, methodically checking out her cuts and bruises. She kept her look trained in his eyes, trying to anticipate what he was going to say to her.

His thumb ghosted over her bruised eye socket.

"What happened?" He asked.

Cassandra closed her eyes, unable to handle the concern in his tone.

"Nothing," she said, "I'm okay."

"No you're not," Cedric said, and he sounded so sure, as though he knew her so well he could tell exactly how she was feeling, and Cassandra desperately wanted for that to be the case. She stood there, unwilling to lie and incapable of telling him the truth, for a moment that seemed to stretch until it felt like eternity, and then he kissed her.

Cedric pulled her closer by the hands he still had on either side of her face, but kept his lips still against hers. She was the one who wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss, pressing her lips harder against his, trying to tell him everything she felt. His fingers dipped into her hair, and she brought their bodies even closer, as close as she could with the both of them standing up.

After a while, Cassandra pulled back, just enough that their lips were no longer touching.

"Please don't hate me," she whispered.

Cedric sighed deeply, kissed the corner of her mouth once, then took a step back. "For a very smart witch, you can be unbelievably dense sometimes, Cassandra. I've been worried sick about you. I kept looking for you hoping we could talk, but I couldn't find you anywhere. Then yesterday, someone told me they'd seen you and that you looked hurt, and you have a bloody black eye. Tell me what happened."

"You shouldn't have gone to the dungeons, Cedric," she said. "If I hadn't gotten there in time-"

"I would've handled it," Cedric said fiercely. "We may have different ways of dealing with things, but I am not helpless. You haven't been to class in days, and I couldn't come up with any other way to see you. I even followed Klaus around to see if he'd lead me to you. Now stop avoiding the subject; how did you get hurt?"

"I caught a bludger with my face during practice. I was going to see Madam Pomfrey today. It's nothing," she said.

He digested that information for a moment. "So all this time, you were avoiding me," he concluded.

"No. Yes. I just…" Cassandra tried to answer, not getting anywhere. When Cedric noticed her wringing her hands anxiously, his face fell.

"Please, just tell me the truth," he pleaded.

She flicked her gaze up to him, and saw herself reflected in his eyes. She didn't look powerful or strong at all, as she had felt during her confrontation with Warrington, but embarrassed and vulnerable. Ready to bolt at a moment's notice, because apparently dealing with her feelings for Cedric was just too hard for her. It was an ugly image, and she hated herself for her weakness.

"I didn't want... I wasn't ready for you to end our… this thing that's going on between us," Cassandra said. "But I'm ready now. You can do it."

"You called me your boyfriend in front of Professor Kettleburn the other day. And then claimed me as your property in front of half of your House just now," Cedric replied.

Of course he would be offended at being referred to in that manner publicly. She certainly would've been, in his place. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I am," he barked out before she could finish. "I am your property. You fucking own me, Cassandra. From the moment I saw you being carried out of that forest covered in blood, half-dead because you were willing to do whatever it took to save a bloody unicorn, you've owned me. I wouldn't care if you shouted that to the entire Great Hall, because it's the truth. I would gladly wear a 'Property of Cassandra Lestrange' pin on my robes if it got you to talk things through with me for once. So don't you dare use that as an excuse to run away."

"Is that what you think I'm going to do?" She asked weakly.

"It's what you do every time you do something you think I'll hate you for. You run away from me, so I don't have the chance to leave you like your parents did," he said.

Cassandra felt those words like a bludger to the chest. That had been the formative experience of her childhood: The two people who should've loved her the most abandoning her in the name of a lost cause. Growing up, she had often wondered what made her less lovable than other children like her cousin Draco, whose parents had chosen to lie about their true allegiances not to be thrown in Azkaban after the end of the war. She focused on trying not to cry. She wanted to hurt Cedric, and then to kiss him, for understanding this about her. Merlin, she wished he didn't sound so kind while saying something like that. It was like he was a Healer, and she was his hysterical patient with her damaged mind being examined.

"You should leave me. You have to!" She cried, trying to convince him, as well as herself.

"Why? You're reckless and aggressive, but that's only a part of who you are, that I can live with." Cedric said. "After what you did for me earlier, you think I would ever leave you? There is nothing you can say or do that would make me walk away from you. Because I'm in love with you, Cassandra."

She wanted to laugh at how bitterly unfair it was for him to say those things to her, especially when her strongest urge was to blurt out something absolutely horrible, like _you mean everything to me. You mean everything to me, and there's this prophecy that says one day I'll become a killer, and I'm terrified you'll hate me then. Because I love you, too. I love you. _

And the worst thing about it was that that was the first time Cassandra realized just how much she did love him. Right there, in the middle of an argument that she wasn't even sure qualified as an argument, because at the end of it Cedric said something that almost made her heart burst.

"I'm not like them, you know. I have no cause, no ambition that matters more to me than you. So if you want to run, run. I won't sit back and let you slip away, like you never existed. I'll fight for you. I'll always fight for you," he said.

It was funny, really, that the most romantic thing Cassandra ever heard someone say made her break down in painful sobs.

"I have to tell you something," she said through tears.


	11. Part 1, Chapter 10

It was the weekend after the end of exams, and the whole castle was abuzz with speculation about what exactly had happened between Harry Potter and their now dead Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Cassandra had received the news about the incident with the same detachment that colored most of her thoughts lately. She now realized that Professor Quirrell must've been the person killing unicorns in the Forbidden Forest. How likely was it that two evil wizards would be roaming the grounds of Hogwarts at the same time, after all? Besides, the teacher had seemed increasingly worn down and sickly as the school year progressed, which accounted for the need of unicorn blood to forestall his death. It all fit neatly.

That he had met his end without need of her interference, at the hands of the boy-who-lived, was a neat resolution to the issue that Cassandra was grateful for. Before, the prospect of dueling a wizard twisted enough to leech off unicorns to keep himself alive wouldn't have cowed her, but now the words of the prophecy hung ominously over her head. She had never believed hurting someone in self-defense or in the defense of others made one evil, but being marked as a future mass murderer had been making her hesitant to use offensive magic. She had realized that when Adrian had asked her why she'd chosen to subdue Cassius Warrington physically rather than magically - it was much harder to kill someone without using a wand.

The only good thing to come out of the entire prophecy ordeal so far was that Cassandra and Cedric's relationship had been, much to her surprise, strengthened rather than destroyed once he was made aware of the prediction. The more she'd insisted that he should distance himself from her, the more unwavering he'd become in his decision not to. The tidings of fate were no match for the Hufflepuff's loyalty. Instead, Cedric had taken it upon himself to help his girlfriend in her journey not to become the version of herself she saw in her nightmares.

That was one of the reasons why he was half-walking, half-dragging her to Professor Sprout's office on a Saturday afternoon.

"I can't believe you talked me into doing this," Cassandra grumbled.

"It was your idea in the first place," Cedric said, unfazed by her complaining.

"Which I would've never gone through with if you hadn't talked to Sprout behind my back," Cassandra huffed. She was so nervous her palms were sweating, and she was still contemplating an escape plan even as they approached the greenhouses.

Cedric held her by the elbow gently, bringing her to a halt. "We both know you want to do this, otherwise you wouldn't have asked for my opinion on it. So I meddled, because I do believe this is going to be good for you. But if you're not ready for it yet, we can call it off. I'll talk to Professor Sprout, and I'm sure she'll understand."

He took her cold, clammy hand in his, stretching her fingers and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Cassandra hadn't realized how tightly she'd been clenching her fists, and while he caressed the indentation marks her fingernails had left on her palm, she slowed down her breaths and focused on easing up the tension with which she was holding herself up, thinking about his words.

"No," she finally replied. "You're right. I want to do this, I do. I'm just…"

"It's going to be ok," Cedric offered. She nodded, and pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around his middle. He kissed her forehead, hugging her tightly. "I promise you, it's going to be ok. What's the worst that can happen? An eleven year old tells you off? You've handled worse."

"I've handled worse," Cassandra repeated to herself. Cedric smiled at her encouragingly, and she couldn't not kiss him.

"You know," she said after his mouth left hers, "Adrian would've just told me to stop being such a pussy, and I would've shut up and done it just to spite him."

"Well, Adrian is not your boyfriend," Cedric replied.

"Thank Merlin for that," Cassandra said. "Come on, Professor Sprout must be waiting for us."

The good-natured Herbology teacher was, in fact, waiting for them outside the greenhouse that served as her office when they arrived. She greeted her two students warmly, then turned to Cassandra, a grave expression on her face.

"Cassandra, are you sure about this?" Professor Sprout asked, seeming concerned. "You have always behaved in an exemplary manner in my presence, which is why I agreed to arrange this when Cedric approached me, but I must tell you that the idea was met with quite a bit of resistance by Mr. Longbottom's Head of House. It was only Professor Dumbledore's interference that convinced Minerva to allow this. Neville is a kind boy, and very talented in my subject, but also very sensitive. He doesn't have your mettle yet. I need you to assure me you'll take every precaution not to needlessly upset him."

"I understand, professor," Cassandra replied. "The last thing I want to do is cause him any distress. I promise you I'll be as considerate as I know how. And you may feel free to listen in our conversation, if that'll reassure you."

The plump teacher smiled at her. "I believe you. I know you're a good girl. Just be careful, alright?"

She nodded, took a deep steadying breath, and walked into the office. Neville Longbottom, round-faced and nervous-looking, was sitting on a chair, looking at her as if she was going to snap and lunge for him at the first opportunity. She said hello and asked if she could take a seat. The boy nodded shakily, not saying anything.

"Do you know who I am?" Cassandra asked, not knowing where else to start. He nodded again, still silent. Her hands started sweating again. "I imagine it must've been hard for you to agree to this, considering- well, thank you for agreeing to meet me, is what I'm trying to say."

"Y-you're welcome," Neville stuttered. He was still looking at her with trepidation, but she was relieved that he didn't intend to listen to her without saying anything the entire time.

"I've wanted to do this from the beginning of the school year, but I didn't have the courage, I guess, to go through with it until now," she said.

"To do what?" Neville asked skittishly.

"To say that I'm sorry. About what my family did to your parents," Cassandra said, and watched the blood drain from the young wizard's face. Her heart sank, and she continued talking, trying to convey the sincerity in her words. "You don't have to accept my apology. That's not why I'm here, to use you to clear my own conscience. You can hate me as much and for as long as you want, if it makes you feel even a little bit better. I certainly would, in your place. I just- It's not fair. To you. That you should have to go to school with me, and see me in the halls, and not know if I take some perverse pride in the whole thing. I don't. It's horrible and unforgivable, what my family did, and I'll never stop being ashamed of it. I just wanted you to know that. That even if they were never sorry for it, I am."

Cassandra discreetly wiped a tear that was escaping from the corner of her eye, and watched Neville do the same, rubbing his teary eyes with his sleeve. He was staring at the floor, his lower lip trembling.

"Thank you," he said after a while.

She swallowed down the lump in her throat. She wasn't going to cry. This was about him, not her. "If you ever need anything, if there's ever anything I can do for you, please feel free to reach out to me. Is there- do you have anything you want to ask me?"

Neville looked up at her. "Do you mind if I tell my gran about this?"

Cassandra thought about the Longbottom matriarch, who'd had her son and daughter-in-law turned into little more than shells of their former selves, and her grandson virtually orphaned because of her family. "No. I don't mind it at all."

Neville nodded again and got up from his chair. She remained seated, waiting for him to leave the room before she could let herself feel the wave of emotions she could feel building in her chest. She was so focused on that, she almost missed the quiet, tremulous words the boy said to her before shutting the door behind him.

"I- I don't hate you."

At the end-of-year feast, Cassandra was in such a good mood she invited her cousin to sit by her side, alongside the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Draco hung onto every word their proud captain spoke about the game play that had won them the Quidditch Cup for the fifth year in a row, in turn helping Slytherin win the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. The entire Great Hall was decorated in silver and green, and even Professor Snape lacked his usual sour expression, which only returned once Harry Potter walked in and sat down at the Gryffindor table.

When Dumbledore announced their win, the entire Slytherin table broke out in cheers. Cassandra lifted her goblet in the air, and smiled when she saw Adrian trying not to blush when he was hugged by an enthusiastic Flint. "Seven in a row, baby! Wheeeew!" She heard someone exclaiming, and was about to cheer again when she heard what the headmaster was saying.

"...recent events must be taken into account," Dumbledore finished. Her smile faded, as did the rest of her teammates'. When the headmaster finished awarding Gryffindor points for the events that had resulted in Professor Quirrell's death, the other Houses' students erupted in deafening celebration, while Slytherins loudly protested.

"Come on!" Adrian said angrily besides her. "If I'd known killing a teacher would get us that many house points, we could've offed Trelawney weeks ago!"

That year, Cassandra's train ride back to King Cross was a lot different from her past ones. Instead of closing herself in a cabin with Adrian and other Slytherins, she shared a cabin with her friend, Cedric Diggory and the Weasley twins. Cassandra was leaning against Cedric, who had his arm around her shoulders. He smiled at her when she laced her fingers with his, and pulled her even closer. Adrian was sitting in front of her, talking to the twins, who were loudly celebrating their win of the annual bet made by students on the fate met by their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"I can't believe the two of you bet _Harry Potter_ would kill our DADA teacher, and actually _won_!" Adrian exclaimed.

The Weasleys smiled sardonically, while Cassandra and Cedric chuckled at Adrian's aggravated expression.

"He's the boy-who-lived," George shrugged.

"We met him boarding the train, and it seemed like something the bloke should be able to do, right George? What's a Defense teacher against you-know-who?" Fred said.

"Right you are, Fred," the other twin replied.

"How much did you win?" Cedric asked, curious. He had confessed to never have partaken on the wager, to the other students' surprise.

"A hundred galleons!" The duo replied enthusiastically, and Cedric whistled.

"Sounds like you two are going to have a pretty good summer," Cassandra said. "By the way, what did you end up doing with the vials of polyjuice I gave you for Yule?"

"Oh, we haven't used it yet." George said. "But we did manage to find a couple of Snape's hairs on the floor of the Potions classroom."

"One of us will probably slip in our little brother Ron's bed one night and give him a beautiful sight to wake up to," Fred said, and the entire cabin laughed. "What about you, Cassie? Any plans for the summer?"

"My grandfather and I usually travel abroad for a week or two right after I get back, but I have tutoring lessons from the middle of July until the beginning of next term. I'm hoping Cedric will join me for some of those," she said, squeezing her boyfriend's hand.

"She's really got you on a leash, huh mate?" George said.

"And I couldn't be happier about it," Cedric replied, and turned his head to kiss her cheek.

"You two are revolting," Adrian said, and yelped when Cassandra kicked him in the shin.

When they got to the platform, Cassandra said goodbye to her friends, promising to write them during the summer break, and waited with Cedric for his parents.

"They are really excited to meet you," Cedric said to her. "Just don't mind my dad, ok? He's a good guy, but he's always putting his foot in his mouth. If he starts talking about marriage-"

Cassandra laughed. "Believe me, it won't take long for that subject to come up with my grandfather either. I'm supposed to invite you and your parents to have dinner with us '_at your earliest convenience_'. He'll probably get you into his study alone at some point to ask you about your intentions towards his granddaughter."

"That's not going to be a problem. I'll have you know most of them are very noble," Cedric said, pulling her closer by the arm he had around her shoulders.

"Only most of them? What about the rest?" Cassandra asked, grabbing the front of his sweater and bringing his mouth to hers.

"Oh, those? Those are absolutely filthy. Horrible, really." Cedric said cheekily, and laughed when she kissed him, her arms around his neck. Happy and lost in the moment, Cassandra parted her lips, deepening the kiss. They were so wrapped up in each other, they completely missed the two adults staring at them, amused by their very public display of affection. When they heard a loud cough, the couple jerked apart as if hit with a stinging hex.

"Dad! Mom!" Cedric exclaimed.

"Mr. Diggory, Mrs. Diggory," Cassandra said awkwardly, trying to seem composed.

Mr. Diggory was almost a head shorter than his son, but both shared the same blue-grey eyes and kind smile, which immediately eased Cassandra's tension at being caught making out with her boyfriend by his parents. Mrs. Diggory, however, was clearly the one Cedric got his good looks from. Tall and slender, the witch had sharp, chiseled features and the same warm brown hair as her son.

"No need to be embarrassed, kids. We've all been there, haven't we, honey?" Mr. Diggory said, looking at his wife. "Oh, the joys of young love."

"Dad…" Cedric pleaded.

"Don't mind your father, dear." Mrs. Diggory said. She smiled at Cassandra. "It's very nice to meet you, Miss Lestrange. Cedric's told us a lot about you."

"Please, call me Cassandra. It's very nice to meet you as well. I might be a little biased, but you've raised a wonderful son." Cassandra replied.

"That's our Ced, always a gentleman! Except when he's kissing beautiful young witches in train stations, that is." Mr. Diggory said with a wink, and Cedric blushed. "Is your grandfather coming to collect you, Cassandra? I don't know if he remembers, but we've met a few times over at the Ministry."

"Grandfather isn't a fan of crowds, so I'll call for one of our house-elves to take me home," she said. "And yes, he's mentioned meeting you. As a matter of fact, he wanted me to relay an invitation for dinner at our house, as soon as would be convenient for you. He's eager to meet Cedric, and you as well, Mrs. Diggory."

"Isn't that something?" Mr. Diggory said merrily. "The Diggorys invited to dinner at Lestrange Manor. Your family name might not carry the weight it used to, with the terrible business of your parents in Azkaban and all, but still-"

"What my husband means to say, Cassandra," Mrs. Diggory interrupted, "is that we would be very happy to attend dinner with you and your grandfather. Owl us with a date and time, and we'll be there. We'll let the two of you say your goodbyes."

"I am so sorry about that," Cedric said once his parents were out of earshot.

"It's alright. It could've been a lot worse. At least they don't hate me," Cassandra said honestly. "Write me soon."

"I will," Cedric said with a smile, and kissed her one last time.

Cassandra waved the Diggorys goodbye and called for Mimi, who promptly took her home. Her grandfather had instructed the house-elf to tell her to wash up and meet him in his study, which she did at once. She realized something was wrong as soon as she saw him. He was sitting back in his chair, so lost in thought he didn't notice her until she knocked on the open door to get his attention.

"Come in, Cassandra. Take a seat," her grandfather said.

"Is everything alright?" She said. "Is it about the prophecy?"

"I scheduled a meeting with a representative from the Department of Mysteries for next week. They will only confirm the existence of a prophecy archive to a subject of one of said prophecies, so you will be coming as well." The Black patriarch said. He sighed deeply, and for a moment looked tired and old, older than he had ever seemed to Cassandra. "But that is not what's on my mind. I have received some troubling news, that I believe are directly related to what's been foretold."

"What news?" Cassandra asked anxiously.

"Severus Snape met with Lucius and Narcissa last night, and your aunt flooed me afterwards to talk about what was said. The incident at your school, with the teacher and the Potter boy, wasn't a chance attack made by a deranged wizard. It was proof of something I've feared since I heard your prophecy, that means its events might come true sooner rather than later," he said, looking at her in a manner that seemed almost apologetic.

Cassandra's hands were shaking. She wanted to beg him to stop talking, and spare her from whatever knowledge he'd gained since they had last spoken. She didn't want to know what had happened to Harry Potter, that might be the catalysis for her transformation into a killer. But she was a Lestrange, and whatever else Lestranges were, they were not cowards. She sat quietly, and waited for her grandfather to finish speaking. When he did, the words he uttered made her entire body go cold, and her heart disappear into her chest.

"Cassandra… the Dark Lord is not dead."


	12. Part 2, Chapter 1

As the rain raged over her, soaking her robes and obscuring her vision, Cassandra ducked and weaved, trying to avoid the curses being rapidly fired in her direction. She could feel her legs burning as she ran down the long, narrow path in the woods. The sound of her boots slapping muddy soil matched the rapid thumps of her heart. Sweat and rainwater had turned her braid into a heavy rope that whipped at her lower back.

Just as she made a sharp left, a blasting curse hit the ground beneath her feet, launching her in the air. When her body hit the ground, she rolled with the impact and propelled herself forward, ignoring the searing pain in her right ankle. Without looking back, she cast stunning spell after stunning spell behind her, hoping to get her pursuer with a lucky hit. Hearing a booming masculine laugh, she ran harder, choking down the cold air, sprinting into the pain.

Once she crossed the pine trees that marked the end of the woods that surrounded the Lestrange property, Cassandra saw her grandfather standing at their front porch. Cygnus Black III was a towering figure: tall and aristocratic, with quick grey eyes, short salt and pepper hair always worn combed back, and skin pale as parchment. Even from a distance, Cassandra could see the thin line of the wizard's disapproving lips as he glanced at the timer spelled to hover above him.

The ticking seconds echoed inside Cassandra's head. She pushed herself to run faster. The tendons cording through her legs wailed for relief. The burning moved to her lungs. Her wand felt slippery in her hand.

Fifty meters. Thirty. Ten.

Once she got within reach she aimed up, and freezed the timer with a spell. 68 minutes and 34 seconds. That's how long it took her to find and revive the seven creatures that had been stunned and hidden in the woods, all while evading a wizard trying to incapacitate her.

She came to a halt right in front of her grandfather, her hands in her knees, breathing in painful lungfuls of air.

"Slower than yesterday," he said, and without another word, turned and walked into the house.

Cassandra scowled at his back, rubbing her shaking thighs. Since she had come back from Hogwarts, there was a new harshness to her grandfather that upset her. She understood why he was on edge, with the possibility of the Dark Lord's return looming in their horizon, but that knowledge did little to comfort her. She missed the man who had embraced her during Yule, and promised to always listen to her.

She startled when she heard a loud pop behind her, and turned around to face the wizard who had been chasing her.

"Slower than yesterday," Boris Ivanovich said in a thick russian accent, and for a brief moment Cassandra wanted to stun her instructor and watch as her raven pecked his eyes out. Not that she would dare. The gruff old wizard who taught her during the summers was a retired Durmstrang Dark Arts professor, who had fought in and survived the Global Wizarding War. If she raised her wand at him he would likely annihilate her, as he nearly always did in their dueling practices. If she ever had to kill him, she would use poison, or a ritual that could be performed from a safe distance.

That he was standing in front of her, dry and nonchalant while she was wet, dirty and visibly exhausted didn't improve her mood any, however. He got to apparate when hunting her, while she had to run through the dense woods by foot, in order to '_replicate real combat conditions_', since she wouldn't be old enough to obtain her apparating license for a couple years yet. She would teach herself to fly without a broom out of pure spite at some point.

"I'll do better next time, sir," she said, swallowing down a snappish response, as she did whenever he criticized her performance during one of his training exercises. She hated herself for her failures much more than she hated him for pointing them out. That was his job, after all.

"You do better, or when it counts, you will die," Mr. Ivanovich replied, as he did every time he heard her make that vow. "You will think about what you did wrong. Next time I will not be so easy on you. I could have aimed blasting curse at your legs, not at ground beneath your feet."

"Then you should have, sir," Cassandra said, only somewhat bitterly. Fourteen days had passed since the beginning of her summer lessons, and she felt every minute of those days in her body right then. She was allowed healing potions for bleeding wounds and broken bones, but anything minor had to heal naturally. Her tutor insisted she should be able to perform with her body bruised and sore, because she would likely be forced to in real life. If he had broken her legs, she would've been able to take a potion, and woken up completely restored the next morning. With only a twisted ankle, she would have to limp on a splinted foot for the rest of the week.

"Cygnus said your young man is coming to meet him today, yes? I did not think you want to spend afternoon regrowing bones in your legs instead of making yourself pretty, but maybe I was wrong. I am old man, after all," he said with a shrug.

Cassandra didn't roll her eyes out of respect. It was offensive that the man thought it took her that much effort to look beautiful. But then again, he mostly saw her covered in sweat and grime. "Yes, sir," she answered, "my boyfriend and his parents are coming for dinner tonight. If grandfather hasn't extended an invitation yet, please consider yourself invited to dine with us."

"I will greatly enjoy watching your grandfather test your young suitor, маленькая ворона," he said. "It is important for man to know that with love of good woman, comes father that will maim you if you hurt her. It keeps us in check."

"You think too little of me, sir," she replied coolly. "My boyfriend knows I'm perfectly capable of maiming him myself."

It wasn't until later, while she showered off the mud that covered nearly every exposed inch of her skin, that Cassandra thought of what Mr. Ivanovich had said. She didn't think her grandfather would be overtly hostile towards Cedric, having given his blessing to their relationship, but the inner workings of the Black patriarch's mind were a mystery to her these days. The time he didn't spend brewing potions in his laboratory or watching her train, he spent locked in his study, '_making preparations' _for the war they knew was coming. When she had asked him what those preparations entailed, he'd refused to elaborate, insisting she should focus on her lessons.

She couldn't really object to that directive. Realistically, what else could she do? She had been an infant during the last wizarding war, and didn't have any knowledge or insight that her grandfather lacked, that could contribute to his planning. She had read all there was to read about the conflict, but he had lived it. Survived it, when so many others had not. The best course of action she could see was, in fact, to throw herself into her training. Unlike most, she had received a warning of what was to come, and she wouldn't squander it - she would make sure she was skilled enough to protect herself and those she loved when the time to fight came.

Her mind went to Cedric again. She hoped that after tonight's dinner, his parents would agree to him joining her in her lessons for the rest of the summer. They had been hesitant to upon learning of her instructor's qualifications, fearing his proficiency in the Dark Arts, but hopefully meeting the former teacher in person would mollify them. If not, she would ask her grandfather to intervene in her and her boyfriend's behalf. Not many people could muster up the nerve to deny Cygnus Black, and she certainly didn't expect the Diggorys to be able to.

After stepping out of the shower, she quickly dried herself up with a spell and went into her bedroom, where a few outfits Mimi had selected from her closet hovered in the air. Every few moments, the clothes would move to show themselves from a different angle, as if being showcased by invisible models trying to sell the garments to her. Cassandra examined the house-elf's display, trying to decide what to wear. She doubted Cedric would care much about her choice in garment, but she wanted greatly to impress his parents.

She had relayed in her invitation that the dinner would be a formal affair, so protocol dictated the men should come in dress robes. Older pureblood witches favored embroidered robes in rich fabrics for formal occasions, while her mother's generation preferred evening gowns with full skirts, long sleeves and fitted bodices. Purebloods her own age tended to wear less rigidly-built dresses, with looser skirts and lighter fabrics. Cassandra would usually mirror in her own clothes the style preferred by an event's hostess or by her grandfather's guest of honor, if they were the ones hosting, but she didn't know if Mrs. Diggory, being a half-blood, followed the wizarding or muggle fashion. Should she go for something understated, to avoid making the other woman look underdressed, or would her guests consider that a slight, as if she hadn't deemed their visit important enough to warrant something more elegant? She threw herself on her bed with a huff, frustrated at how much she cared about something so trivial. Being in a relationship had truly made her stupid.

In the end, Cassandra let the disconcerting, yet sincere remarks made by Mr. Diggory on the day they were introduced guide her. At King's Cross, the wizard had said that being invited to dine at the Lestrange manor was an honor to him, even with the shame of her parents' imprisonment. The excitement made sense, coming from a mid-level Ministry employee from a mundane wizarding family. It wasn't likely that the Diggorys were invited to socialize with members of Britain's pureblood high-society often, and Death Eater relatives or not, that's what she and her grandfather were. The best approach for the evening would not be to try to appear lower in station than they really were, but to impress upon Cedric's parents - his father specially, how much their son had to gain from his relationship with her. She was going to _dazzle_ them.

For that, she chose a full skirted, off the shoulder pale silver gown, with sheer puff sleeves and a fitted bodice that ended on her hips. It was diaphanous and ethereal, something that a witch from a fairytale might've worn. To add to that effect, she twisted her hair up and adorned it with scattered pearls of different sizes, which contrasted with her black locks in a captivating manner. She looked like a more refined, adult version of herself. Like her mother did in the photographies she kept in a locked box beneath her bed.

After dressing up, she busied herself with last minute preparations. She decorated the first floor of the house with vases of flowers freshly cut from the gardens, that filled the rooms with a pleasant fragrance; took out a charmed string sextet from the attic and placed it in the drawing room, setting it to play Brahms; and in a whim, transfigured the landscape painting that hung above the the fireplace from which guests entered the manor to her family's coat of arms. She stared at the fireplace for a while, eager and afraid for the arrival of their guests. Eventually, she noticed her grandfather's presence behind her, and turned her head to look at him. They stared at each other for a few seconds.

"What?" She asked hesitantly. These days, his heavy silences were followed by horrifying statements like, '_The Dark Lord is not dead, Cassandra_'.

He came forward until they were side by side. "I was part of a scene very similar to this one, a long time ago." He offered her his right arm, elbow bent. It was a gentlemanly gesture, characteristic of the indulgent parental figure she had been missing that summer, and she was inordinately grateful for it. She primly looped her hand under the offered arm to rest it over his forearm, and he led them on a leisurely walk around the anteroom. "Back then, instead of you, it was your mother, waiting for your father and his family at Black End Hall. We formalized their engagement that night, and they married not long after."

She didn't know what to say to that. As a child, she had asked him and her aunts to tell her all they could about her parents, and knew their marriage had been one of convenience, arranged by their families; they had accepted and respected each other, but there had been no romantic love between them.

"You can have any wizard in Britain, Cassandra. Anyone you wish, I will get you," he continued. "Are you sure it's this boy you choose?"

"Yes," she answered at once. "He knows me, he knows what's going to happen, and he's still willing to stand by my side."

"Some would call that kind of devotion stupid," he said.

"Not a Lestrange," she replied, thinking of the family that had left her to search for the Dark Lord, even when everyone else believed him dead, and never returned.

"No," her grandfather said ruefully, "not a Lestrange."

The Diggorys arrived not much later, joining her, her grandfather and Boris Ivanovich in the Lestrange Manor drawing room, where they were entertained before dinner commenced. Cedric remarked on how beautiful she looked, how brightly her eyes shone, how much he'd missed her. She noticed all the new things about him, that had changed in the weeks they'd been apart. He had spent that time visiting some cousins in Spain, and his handsome complexion had benefited from the time under the sun; there were freckles on his nose, his skin had a tan that spoke of wholesome vigor, and his brown hair was now lit with honey streaks. He looked every bit the golden boy that he was, and Cassandra felt herself basking in the brightness of his presence.

Mrs. Diggory, good-looking and cordial, was wearing the traditional dress robes customarily donned by pureblood witches twice her age, a choice that did her figure no favors, but pleased Cygnus Black, as did her lively disposition and agreeable manners. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of her husband. Mr. Diggory's uninhibited personality, that at once vexed and amused Cassandra, chafed against her grandfather's rigid propriety.

The hall, the dining room, and all the decorations were examined and praised by the Diggorys, and their admiration of everything would've been wholly pleasing if not for Mr. Diggory's mortifying enquiry as to whether any items had been damaged by the Ministry during their search of the mansion for Dark objects after her parents' arrest. Cassandra tried not to grimace at the inappropriate question, and answered she did not remember, being so young at the time.

"Can you believe, our children in love," Mr. Diggory - _'Call me Amos, please, and if I may call you Cygnus?_' - gushed to her grandfather, clasping his hands together. Cedric looked at her worriedly, and she shook her head discreetly, signaling him not to intervene. It was obvious to her, and to everyone else at the table, that Mr. Diggory's sentimentality made her stern grandfather uncomfortable, but he would not appreciate being rescued from their conversation, as if he were incapable of handling the other wizard.

"It came as quite a shock," her grandfather answered.

"What do you mean?" Mr. Diggory asked, guileless. Cassandra drank a mouthful of wine, ignoring the lobster tagliatelle in front of her in favor of exchanging sympathetic looks with her boyfriend. This was excruciating.

"Cassandra had never humored any talk of boys, so I assumed romance wasn't something she was interested in, and that it would fall to me to make her a proper match when the time came," her grandfather said. "Her mother was like that, as well."

She looked at her grandfather sharply. She knew what he was doing, bringing up her similarities to her mother with Cedric's parents, trying to make them uncomfortable. He didn't look back at her, and she was left glaring curses at his profile. Cedric rested her foot against hers, reassuring. She took a calming breath, in and out, and focused on rearranging the food on her plate.

"Well," Mr. Diggory tried, "that's because she hadn't been wooed by our Ced yet! Charming lad, he is, and straight Os, as well. Isn't that right, honey?" he said, turning to Mrs. Diggory.

"Yes, Cedric is a very dedicated student, and we're very proud of him. I hear you have plenty of reasons to be proud of Cassandra in that regard, as well," Mrs. Diggory replied with a genial smile.

"Hogwarts' curriculum has not proven itself particularly challenging for wizards of good breeding for many decades now, but no one can hope to question Cassandra's aptitude as a witch, nor her diligence in bettering herself," her grandfather said. "What would you say of your pupil, Boris?"

"The girl is talented like any wizard I ever dueled, and twice more vicious. It is good, for pretty witches to be vicious. In fight, they are first choice in victims," Mr. Ivanovich said. "Is your soon good fighter?"

Mr. Diggory seemed startled by that question. "I suppose I've never- We're not-"

"I've never been formally trained," Cedric interrupted his father smoothly, "but I would like to be. Is it true Dueling is a discipline at Durmstrang?"

"Of course," Mr. Ivanovich said, "it should be in Hogwarts too, if the British were not so coddling to the children. They do not even teach the Dark Arts at your school, yes?"

"We've had our fill of warmongering dark wizards, sir," Mr. Diggory said with sobriety. "I cannot see what would be gained by teaching children such things."

"Those who will make war do not need school to teach them the Dark Arts, they will seek the knowledge needed to commit their atrocities by whatever means necessary. And they only gain from the others' ignorance. How can you fight what you do not know? I would not have survived the war against Grindelwald if I had not understood the ways of other side," Mr. Ivanovich replied.

"You fought _against _Grindelwald?" Mrs. Diggory asked, with naked surprise.

"Yes. I was young... Auror, I think you say, back home. Many of my colleagues were killed in the name of that выродок. The ones who survived, did because we knew how to fight like his army," the wizard said.

"Professor Ivanovich was invited to teach at Durmstrang because of his actions during the war," Cassandra added, feeling that would be the way to convince Cedric's parents of the wizard's worthiness as an instructor. "He was awarded the Russian Ministry's equivalent to an Order of Merlin, first class, for saving a Muggle village from being attacked by a chimaera let loose by one of Grindelwald's acolytes." Her targets looked suitably impressed by that.

"Cassandra was rather disappointed when your son did not join her for her lessons at the beginning of the summer. I understand that was your choice," her grandfather said to Mr. and Mrs. Diggory.

"We only want what's best for our son," Mr. Diggory replied sheepishly.

"And you do not believe being privately tutored by a condecorated war hero would be beneficial to his education? Or are you so prejudiced against the Dark Arts you would keep him from learning to defend himself?" her grandfather asked calmly.

"We never meant any offense," Mrs. Diggory intervened before her husband could answer. "We simply weren't aware of the Professor's heroic feats, and were hesitant to have an unknown person teaching our son." she said. "I'm sure you understand our… selectiveness concerning Cedric's educators."

"That should no longer be a problem, then," her grandfather said with finality, and nodded with satisfaction when Mr. and Mrs. Diggory agreed. He turned to their son, then. "I understand my family is used to doing things a lot differently from yours, son, so I'll spare all of us any misunderstandings and be direct. How serious are you about my granddaughter?"

"Very serious, sir," Cedric answered, straightening his posture.

"Serious enough for marriage?"

"Grandfather!" Cassandra cut in.

"You are both going to be fifteen within the year," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "That's certainly old enough for a betrothal contract, at least."

Cedric looked at her, searching for an answer. "No one's getting betrothed tonight," she retorted firmly, turning to stare down her guardian. "With all due respect, grandfather, if and when that does happen, it will not be by your interference."

As soon as the Diggorys stepped through the floo, leaving the house, Cassandra rounded on her grandfather, her friendly smile dropping from her face.

"What did you think you were doing?" She demanded, with venom in her tone. It was unlike her to speak to him in such a manner, but dinner had been a subdued affair after their quarrel, and the wine she had kept drinking in hopes to dull the edges of her embarrassment had only made her angrier. "Why on Merlin's name would you bring up a betrothal contract? What is this, the Middle Ages?"

"I am only trying to protect you, Cassandra," he replied evenly.

She sneered. "Protect me? Is that what you call trying to make me a child bride?"

"You are the one who chose the boy."

"To be my boyfriend! Not my bloody husband! I'm FOURTEEN!"

"What you are is a FOOL!" Her grandfather roared. She flinched, unused to his anger. "You think this is what I want for you? To marry you off to the first lovestruck boy that suits your fancy? You were meant for so much better than this. But what do you think is going to happen when the blasted war comes, and your parents get out from Azkaban? Because I assure you, when the Dark Lord rises again, he will find a way to release them. And all the freedom, all the protections your family name afford you now will be gone - like that!" He said, snapping his fingers.

Cassandra stepped back, her mouth suddenly dry. "I didn't-"

"It is in your best interest to be married when that time comes, child. I am doing all I can to ensure you won't be without allies, but do not doubt for a second your parents will pull you wand-first into their madness as soon as they're able to. You think me pushing you to marry a boy from a family of nobodies is bad? You have NO IDEA what they had planned for you! You were to be your mother's sacrifi-"

"STOP!" Cassandra screamed, and yelled again in surprise when a small body collided against her, making her fall to the ground, flat on her back. She noticed then the ringing in her ears, and the shards of glass stuck against the protective barrier Mimi had erected around them. She blinked, trying to get her bearings, and sat up slowly. Her grandfather had his wand drawn, and was wiping blood from a small cut on his face. When she looked around, she noticed every window, as well as the crystal vases and all the glass in the furniture had shattered in what seemed to have been a bout of accidental magic on her part.

"Are you hurt?" Her grandfather asked, reaching for her.

"No, Mimi got to me," she answered meekly, avoiding his hand.

"It wasn't my intention to-"

"I can't take this right now," she said, and ran out of the room, out of the house, and kept running until she was joined by Klaus, who flew above her into the woods where she wasn't a Lestrange, wasn't anyone's daughter or granddaughter, where there wasn't any prophecy looming in her future and her choices belonged only to herself.

* * *

маленькая ворона = little raven

выродок = a really insulting way to call someone a degenerate


	13. Part 2, Chapter 2

Cassandra was on the verge of falling asleep, her head resting comfortably against Sally's neck, her body warm under the snallygaster's wing. She could feel the up and down of the beast's chest as it breathed in and out, and smell the earthy scent of its feathers. Those sensations were comforting to her. She was abruptly jarred to alertness by the sound of a branch snapping, and the feeling of Sally tensing up around her. Cassandra looked around, but couldn't see far beyond the trees around her in the darkness of the new moon night.

But the sound didn't lie. There was something approaching. Now that she was paying attention, she thought she could hear the crunching of leaves on the trail that led to Sally's nest, at the heart of the grove that surrounded Lestrange Manor. Coming closer. It could be an animal, but not many creatures, magical or not, would risk intruding upon a snallygaster's nest. With its serrated steel fangs, the part-bird, part-lizard, dragon-like creature that could stand twice as tall as a full-grown man, was an apex predator.

With the tactical drills from the past weeks too fresh on her mind for her to dismiss the signs of a possible attack, Cassandra drew out her wand and whispered, "Homenum Revelio." A shining, translucent arrow-like shape shot out in the direction she'd heard the noises coming from, and stopped about fifteen meters south from her position, confirming the presence of another person. Who? When she'd stormed out of the house after her altercation with her grandfather, the only people there had been the wizard himself, who knew better than to roam the woods at night, and Mr. Ivanovich, who had retreated into the guest wing after dinner, most likely to knock himself into a firewhisky-induced sleep not even a banshee could rouse him from.

Cassandra considered the slim odds of someone trespassing on Lestrange property with good intentions, and quietly slipped off her heels. The better choice would've been to transfigure them into running boots, but transfiguration was her weak point, and she wouldn't chance taking her focus away from the possible attacker to perform a non-offensive spell. Besides, she didn't plan on running. If someone wanted a fight, she had a lot of anger to burn through.

"I know you're out there," she called out in a sing-song voice, quietly crouching up behind Sally. It was a good cover, she thought. The magical creature's bulletproof hide would protect her against weaker spells, and she'd be able to see what was coming. "Unless you want to be eaten by a beast with very sharp fangs, you should stop right where you are, and announce yourself."

"It's me," a familiar male voice answered.

"Cedric?" Cassandra asked dubiously. Hearing an affirmative response, she cast a wand-lightning charm in order to confirm she was indeed talking to her boyfriend. Once she saw him, she stood up and put her shoes back on. "What on earth are you doing here?" He was wearing different clothes from the dress robes he'd worn for dinner, but thankfully didn't look as if he'd run into any trouble in the woods. Swooping down from the treetops, Klaus landed on her shoulder, and she realized why. "Did Klaus show you the way? I was wondering where he was. I was about to hex the life out of you."

"I'm glad you didn't," Cedric said, eyeing Sally carefully. It eyed him back curiously, interested in the stranger whom Cassandra was so familiar with. "What is that?" He asked.

"You really should be taking Care of Magical Creatures instead of Muggle Studies," Cassandra replied. "It's a snallygaster. Her name's Sally."

"Is it actually dangerous?" Cedric asked.

"Yes. But not to me. Come here," Cassandra said. He faltered, and she laughed.

"It's got metal fangs," Cedric said with an exasperated expression.

"And I have a wand. Come on. She can tell that I like you, she won't attack. Isn't that right, Sally?" Cassandra said, petting the creature's chest. It butted its head against Cassandra's middle, enjoying the attention.

Cedric approached them slowly, then put his hand on top of Sally's head. He petted the creature with hesitancy, relaxing when it didn't show displeasure at the contact.

"Not that I'm complaining," Cassandra said after a while, "but what _are_ you doing here? You left what, an hour ago?"

"Your grandfather floo called," Cedric said. "He convinced my parents to let me spend the rest of the summer at your house, starting tonight. Something about not limiting my learning opportunities to a few hours with Mr. Ivanovich a day. He offered to tutor me in Potions himself, I thought my dad was going to have an apoplexy. I figured the hurry wasn't for my benefit when I got here and he told me to come look for you in the woods."

"You're his apology," Cassandra said. Cedric eyed her questioningly, and she sighed. "We should go somewhere else to talk. If I get upset and Sally thinks it's because of you, she might hurt you."

With Klaus flying above them, they walked side-by-side until they reached a small clearing. Cassandra conjured a blanket for them to sit on, then cast a jet of Bluebell Flames, which she contained in a conjured glass ball that she charmed to hover above them, illuminating and warming the area. Cedric watched her spellwork with contemplative consideration. She raised an eyebrow, and he shook his head, smiling.

"You're amazing," he said, answering her unspoken question.

She closed her eyes and hugged him, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck. "I missed you. Even during dinner, with you sitting right in front of me, I missed you." She felt him wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight, and her body melted against his.

He kissed her on the crown of her head, her hair, her ear. "Tell me you're alright. Tell me what I can do to help. Please."

She didn't want to revisit the awful feelings she'd run away from, but to forget them. She pulled back from him just enough to bring their mouths together. "What about this?" She whispered against his lips, and then Cedric kissed her, hard and deep. She kissed him back just as hungrily, intoxicated by the feeling of his his lips, his teeth, his tongue. For a while, there was nothing else.

"As much as I enjoy this," he said eventually, laying soft kisses on the corner of her mouth, "and I do, so much, I don't think it's going to solve anything."

"Why can't you take advantage of my disturbed emotional state to have your wicked way with me, like a regular guy?" Cassandra groaned.

Cedric laughed, and kissed her forehead. "I'm a Hufflepuff, remember?"

"Only too often," she said, laying her head on his chest.

"Tell me why you're hiding in the woods in the middle of the night," he said.

"Grandfather and I were arguing and I had a bout of accidental magic. Then I stormed out so he wouldn't see me crying." Cassandra answered.

Cedric didn't respond, waiting for her to continue.

"I don't want to die. I don't want to kill anyone. And I don't want us to get engaged just because the alternative is me being forced to marry a Death Eater when the war breaks out," Cassandra said wearily. "When I was old enough to understand the magnitude of what my family had done, why people look at me the way they do, I realized happiness probably wasn't in the cards for me. I mean, I get it. Maybe I even deserve it, for what they-"

"You don't-" Cedric protested.

"Just let me finish, all right?" Cassandra pleaded, taking a step back from the wizard. "I was fine with that, with not being happy. Not many purebloods are, anyway. But I figured with my parents in Azkaban, at least I would be free, and that almost sounded better than being happy. I wouldn't have to grow up with the weight of my family's expectations on me, always having to toe the line not to get disinherited. I'd be free to make up my own mind, and live my life however I wanted to. And now I no longer have that freedom, and I don't know how to deal with it."

"But you are free," Cedric said.

"No I'm not. The prophecy-"

"Fuck the prophecy," Cedric said firmly. Cassandra stared into his eyes, and saw just how fervently he meant those words. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"That's not how prophecies work," she replied stubbornly.

"No one knows how prophecies work. Do you think I've been reading about anything else since you told me yours? Prophecies might be fulfilled and they might not, and trying to make one happen or keep it from happening only ends in disaster," Cedric said. "Your future's _not _set in stone. You lost your family once, and you didn't kill anyone."

"I was five."

"Still. You could've grown up to be a pureblood supremacist, and you didn't. You're not evil. You're not a killer. I'll repeat that as many times as I have to. If someone does kill your family, you can choose to let the Aurors handle it. That's their job. If you find yourself in the middle of some battle, you can choose to only fight to defend yourself. If a war does break out, we can choose to run away. We'll live like muggles if we have to, somewhere nowhere can find us," he replied.

"You'd do that?" Cassandra asked. She didn't particularly want to live as a muggle, but it touched her that he would offer to.

"I'd do anything for you, Cassandra." Cedric said. "If you wanted to go along with your grandfather's plan and get married, I'd do it."

"I refuse to let my life become a poorly written _Witch Weekly_ story," she scowled. "I'm not some helpless witch, and you're not the martyring wizard who's going to marry me out of some misguided sense of obligation to save me from a terrible fate."

"You know what I got out of that?" Cedric said after a moment.

"What?" Cassandra asked.

"That you read _Witch Weekly,_" Cedric replied, and laughed when she punched his arm. "It's going to be okay, babe. I'm with you, every step of the way. And if I get the inkling you're becoming a crazed killer, I'll lock you in a room without your wand and vanish the key."

"Stop trying to make me laugh," she said half-heartedly, wanting anything but that.

"I don't think I will," he said. "And by the way, the whole thing about happiness not being in the cards for you? You're wrong. You are going to be happy."

"How do you know that?" Cassandra asked.

"I'll make you happy," Cedric said simply.

And for the rest of the summer, he did.

They attended lessons with Mr. Ivanovich, trained and studied together; on the afternoons Cedric spent with her grandfather, being tutored on the finer points of potion-making Professor Snape didn't bother teaching students below N.E.W.T. level, Cassandra worked quietly from the back of the laboratory, brewing advanced potions from a list her grandfather had produced, and sneaking looks at her boyfriend.

She acquainted Cedric with the various magical creatures that inhabited the property, as well as many of the plants and fungi that Professor Sprout talked about with wonder, but couldn't grow at Hogwarts for lack of funding or difficulty in procuring rare seedlings. In return, he introduced her to Muggle literature, a passion of his half-blood mother that had been passed down to him.

In their free time they played Quidditch, laid down on the grass outside reading or talking, and looked for private spots where they could kiss and explore each other, like the eager teenagers they were. Despite a promise she made to Cedric late one night while they stared at the stars, to not let the words of the prophecy haunt her thoughts, at times Cassandra would catch herself staring at him, trying to burn in her brain the memories of them just as they were then - happy, together, yet untouched by the tragedy her future held.

"I hate him," Cassandra said with irritation, closing the book in her hands. Klaus croaked from his place atop her left shoulder, echoing the sentiment.

"Who?" Cedric said, raising his eyes from Maxwell Barnett's _Guide to Advanced Occlumency_ to look at her from across the small circular table that separated them. They were sitting on the outside area of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, reading in companionable silence while they waited for Adrian to arrive. They had agreed to do their shopping together the day after receiving their Hogwarts lists, to avoid the crowds that swarmed Diagon Alley as September 1st approached, but Adrian was running late.

"Frankenstein," Cassandra huffed. "What kind of pathetic excuse for a Necromancer _runs away _from their charge after bringing it to life, without even giving it any instructions? Why create it in the first place, then? He knew what the Monster looked like before he animated it. Coward."

"That's your gripe with him, not that he created a murderous monster, but that he abandoned it?" Cedric asked with amusement.

"I would hardly call the Monster a murderer. The blame for its kills falls entirely on Victor, in my opinion. If I somehow created an entirely new sapient magical creature, and neglected to teach it anything - didn't give it a code of ethics, didn't teach it the laws of civilized society - and then it killed someone, would you blame me for the death, or the creature?" Cassandra challenged him.

Cedric put his book down on the table and pondered the question for a while before answering her. "Both, I think. You're responsible for creating it and not teaching it right from wrong, but if a creature is capable of intelligent thought, then it follows it would also be capable of empathy. Even if I had never been explicitly told that killing is bad, I can't imagine hurting someone and not stopping as soon as I realized they were in pain. Unless the death was an accident, or in self-defense, then the creature does bear responsibility for it, and I would call it a murderer."

"That's not fair. Think abo- Aunt Andromeda!" Cassandra exclaimed with surprise, noticing her aunt looking at her from across the street. Her mother's sister, who'd been disowned by the Black family for marrying a muggleborn, appeared to be shopping with her daughter Nymphadora. The young metamorphmagus seemed to be playing with a cat-kneazle displayed in front of the Magical Menagerie by giving her own face cat-like features.

Cassandra had met her older cousin at Hogwarts, but during the two years they had attended school together before Nymphadora graduated, they had only interacted a handful of times. Their lack of familiarity wasn't due to her cousin's half-blood status, however. Cassandra thought Nymphadora was loud and obnoxious, and the older girl saw her pureblood little cousin as a stuck-up snob. As a result, they had gladly stayed out of each other's way.

Her daughter's poor opinion of her niece notwithstanding, Andromeda had continued writing her and sending her birthday presents, something she was thankful for. She liked her aunt, and enjoyed exchanging letters with her, even if their communication was occasionally made awkward by Andromeda's complete refusal to acknowledge any mention of her father, who played a big part in Cassandra's life as her guardian.

"Tonks is your cousin whose mother got kicked out of the family?" Cedric said with bewilderment as he saw the pair made their way to their table.

"Tonks?" Cassandra asked, her hackles rising. "I hadn't realized you knew her."

"I don't," Cedric said, instantly catching his girlfriend's pointed tone. "I don't think we've ever said a word to each other. Everyone in Hufflepuff knows of her; she almost drove Professor Sprout into an early retirement with her pranks."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything. She wouldn't be caught dead having an argument with her boyfriend about another witch in public, specially when said witch was rapidly coming within earshot.

"Aunt Andromeda, Nymphadora, it's so good to see you," she said, getting up from her chair to greet them. Andromeda hugged her, while Nymphadora scowled.

"You know I go by Tonks," her cousin said. Cassandra did know that.

"Nymphadora, don't be rude," her aunt chided. "How are you, dear? You look like so grown."

"I'm well, thank you." Cassandra replied. "How about you? Did your neighbor ever figure out the source of the smell in her house?"

"Oh yes, it was coming from a bundimun infestation, of all things. Her husband inherited an antique cabinet from his great-aunt that hadn't been properly scourgified, and put it in the attic without telling her. The colony had dissolved half of their roof framing by the time they found the foul pests. Some people might dismiss household spells, because they aren't flashy and can't be used to duel Dark wizards," Andromeda said, side-eyeing her daughter, "but their house could have collapsed on top of them, all because of a sloppy scourging spell."

"Enough about bundimuns, mum," Nymphadora said. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend, little cousin? You two looked quite cozy from over there."

Klaus shrieked menacingly from Cassandra's shoulder at Nymphadora's gibe, causing the metamorphmagus and her mother to startle.

"Klaus says hi," Cassandra deadpanned, even though the raven's hostility was plain. "And of course, I apologise for the rudeness. This is my boyfriend, Cedric Diggory," she said, turning to the wizard.

Cedric rose politely from his chair, offering his hand to her aunt first, and then to her cousin. "Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Tonks, Miss Tonks. Cassandra speaks very fondly of you," he said with a warm smile.

"Does she?" Andromeda said with naked surprise on her face. She looked appraisingly between her niece and Cedric, handsome and affable, and her face broke into a pleased smile. "It's very nice to meet you as well, Mr. Diggory."

"Cedric, please. If you call me Mr. Diggory I'll keep looking around expecting to see my father."

"Wait, Cedric Diggory?" Nymphadora interrupted, and it was clear she was working through something in her head. "Aren't you the kid who replaced Merridew as Seeker? You're dating a Hufflepuff!" She said to Cassandra, sounding halfway between accusing and astonished.

"Why is that so surprising?" Cassandra asked, knowing perfectly well the reason why. A relationship with someone outside Slytherin who didn't belong to a pureblood family did not reconcile with her cousin's view of her as a snotty heiress.

"Does your gran- I'm sorry," her aunt said. "I was about to ask a rather impertinent question."

"If that question is whether grandfather knows about us, the answer is yes. He's given us his wholehearted approval."

"That doesn't sound like the Cygnus I remember," Andromeda said, her face twisted in an involuntary grimace.

Cassandra was unsure how to respond, knowing that defending the man who had disowned her aunt for marrying a muggleborn wasn't a good idea.

"He did try to negotiate a betrothal contract with my parents the first time we met, before Cassandra cut him off," Cedric offered, "so maybe he hasn't changed that much."

Andromeda gave him a wry smile, accepting the appeasing words. "Maybe. I do wish the two of you the best, young man." She took a step closer to Cassandra, grabbing her hands. "And you. Don't let anyone's opinions of what you should or should not do get in the way of your happiness."

"I won't, aunt Andromeda," Cassandra said solemnly. "I promise."

Her aunt hugged her again, and they said their goodbyes. Cassandra and Cedric had just sat back down when they saw Adrian running in their direction.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he panted after saying hello and throwing himself on a chair in front of them.

"What happened?" Cassandra asked, taking in her best friend's untidy appearance.

"I was fighting with my dad. About you, actually," Adrian said.

"The usual?" She said. Adrian nodded.

"The man has been hoping for ages that Cassandra will overlook our family's half-blood status and decide to give it a go with me," he said to Cedric. "Every time I mention her, he suggests a different way I can woo my way into becoming a Lestrange. Most of the time I go along with it to get him off my case, but today I accidentally let it slip that you two are together, and he berated me for half an hour for '_missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime_'. He had figured if she was going to choose someone else, at least it would be a wizard from an old pureblood line. I was this close to just telling him I'm gay and being done with the whole farce."

"I gather he wouldn't respond well to it," Cedric said.

"That's an understatement," Adrian said, understandably frustrated at his situation.

"Just two more years, Adrian. Two years, and you'll be free," Cassandra said, and her friend took a deep breath in and out, relaxing.

"What's in two years?" Cedric asked. Cassandra noticed he was playing with the ends of her hair, and put her hand on his knee. The physical contact with him was like a balm. He smiled at her touch.

"My seventeenth birthday," she answered. "The day I come into full control of the Lestrange fortune, and Adrian doesn't have to worry about his parents throwing him out when he comes out to them. Grandfather has loosened up a lot since aunt Andromeda's time, but he's not forward thinking enough to take in an underage gay wizard. So we have to wait until I can."

"What's the point of being the richest witch in Britain if you can't financially support your homosexual friends?" Adrian said.

Cassandra laughed. "Yes, that."

"How's your grandfather, by the way?" Adrian asked.

"Worried," she said. "Apparently, word about the Dark Lord being attached to the back of our Defense professor's head last year is spreading among the old guard."

"They must be excited," Adrian said. "Thinking he might come back and all."

"They're scared out of their minds," she replied. Adrian looked confused. Cedric listened to them quietly, already having had this conversation with his girlfriend. "They stayed out of Azkaban by denying to have ever truly supported him, and claiming they were bewitched or coerced into it. And if that wasn't bad enough, now that they know he's not really dead, they have no excuse for not being out there trying their best to find him. My family and Barty Crouch Jr. looked for over a year before they were arrested, while everyone else turned their backs to them. Grandfather is worried one of them might to cause some mayhem in an attempt to prove their loyalty to the cause, as a precaution in case he does come back, and that they might try to rope me in, being the last free Lestrange."

"That's a fucking grim thought," Adrian said after a few moments of heavy silence. "We should have some ice cream."

* * *

_A.N.: This chapter is dedicated to walaloo36000. I couldn't wish for a better writer to comiserate with. I would also like to convey my gratitude to prongsdeer, espertinha, randomtastic7 and Imnotsurereally, as well as everyone else who left a review on the last chapter. This chapter was kicking my ass, but your wonderful reviews gave me the motivation to push through. Untill next time xx_


	14. Part 2, Chapter 3

The three teenagers bought their favorite ice creams, which they ate as they wandered around Diagon Alley, chatting and examining the shop windows. Cassandra ignored the dirty looks she received from the occasional witch and wizard. Even Florean Fortescue had avoided meeting her eyes while he'd prepared her order, lacking the usual zest he was known for showing in his interactions with customers. When Cedric remarked on it, Cassandra shrugged his concern away. As long as her dark chocolate and banana flavoured ice cream tasted as good as everyone else's, she didn't mind the uncongenial customer service.

They went to Madam Malkin's first. Cedric had grown even taller during the summer, and was in dire need of new robes that fit him properly. As for Cassandra and Adrian, it would be unbecoming of a pair of Slytherins to walk around Hogwarts in year-old school robes. The two friends were fitted first, then sat side-by-side on the comfortable armchairs Madam Malkin offered her waiting clients. They accepted refreshments from another employee and watched the shop owner take Cedric's measurements. When he took out his too-small clothes at the witch's request, Adrian whistled. Cassandra weakly slapped her friend's chest with the back of her hand, holding in a chuckle when she noticed the scarlet blush coloring her boyfriend's cheeks.

"Merlin, how did he get even more fit since June?" Adrian muttered to her while they watched Madam Malkin pin a pair of trousers on Cedric's waiting form.

"He _really_ wanted to impress Ivanovich. I think he felt a little inadequate because he was so behind on his practical spellwork - not his fault, really, it was a given considering the staggering incompetence of our past Defense professors," Cassandra said. "So he woke up every single morning before sunrise to exercise. Said if he couldn't go against me spell-for-spell, he could at least make sure he did his best in every other aspect of our training."

"Did it work?" Adrian asked. "From what you've said of him, Comrade Boris doesn't sound very easy to impress."

"He isn't. But I think it did. Cedric's casting time is ridiculously quick, and I've got nothing on him when it comes to endurance. I'm still the better duelist, but if he manages to draw out a match, he can get me with a lucky shot once I'm worn down. According to Ivanovich that's an '_unfortunate drawback of my weakly woman disposition I must overcome',_" Cassandra said, emulating the wizard's strong Russian accent. Adrian snorted, and she found herself laughing with him.

They were quiet for a few moments after her bad impression stopped being funny, and then Cassandra felt her leg being nudged by her friend. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow at the calculating expression on his face.

"You're different," Adrian said.

"How so?" She asked.

"I don't know… lighter, maybe? The last time I saw you, you looked like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Now you don't," he said. "Did something change?"

Cassandra sighed, and moved Klaus from her shoulder to her lap, stroking his feathers absent-mindedly. She considered how to respond to her friend's words. She knew what he meant. When they had said goodbye to each other at King's Cross after the train ride back from Hogwarts, she'd been weighed down by worry about her future, and the prophecy that loomed over it. Ostensibly, nothing had changed since then. There had been no great discovery that guaranteed her future safety, or major shift in her circumstances to assuage her concerns. But something had happened during the summer that accounted for the difference Adrian saw in her.

"I'm happy," she said honestly. "I had the best summer of my life, Adrian. Cedric was there and everything was just… good. Wonderful, even. All I had to do was keep any thoughts about the future off my mind, focus on living in the present, and it was like the whole prophecy business was nothing more than a bad dream." She looked back in Cedric's direction, at the person responsible for her happiness. "Cedric believes it might not come true. That I can choose not to become what it says I will."

"Do _you_ believe that?" Adrian asked.

Cassandra shrugged; she wasn't sure. "Even if I don't. If he's wrong and no matter what I do to avoid it, all that's been predicted comes true. What do I have to gain by worrying about it? I'll have wasted the few years I have to be happy before everything goes to shit for nothing. I don't want that. I might not be free to choose what I become in the future, but I am free to choose how I live the present. And right now, I'm choosing to enjoy life."

"That's the most sickeningly optimistic thing I have ever heard you say," Adrian said, squinting at her. "Be serious, does Diggory have you under an Imperius?"

"Shut up," she laughed.

"Are you two ready to go?" Cedric said. He was back on his robes and had all their shopping bags with him. Cassandra got up from her armchair and smiled at him. He smiled back, and she pulled him closer to give him a quick but sweet kiss.

"What was that for?" He asked after she let him go.

"Just because," she answered.

They went to Scribbulus Writing Instruments next to purchase parchment, ink and new quills, then to Flourish and Blotts for their school books. Cassandra called for Mimi to take her and Cedric's purchases home rather than walk around carrying the heavy sets of Gilderoy Lockhart's books. Adrian's chin threatened to meet the ground when she informed him that the famous wizard would be their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, something that her uncle Lucius Malfoy, who had a seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, had told her grandfather. Apparently, her friend had a crush on the handsome author. Afterwards, they went to Quality Quidditch Supplies, where the three of them ordered new Hogwarts Quidditch robes in their respective House colours, Cassandra bought a new set of beater's bats, and Cedric lovingly eyed a model of the soon-to-be-released Nimbus 2001.

"It's so sleek," he said, admiring the design of the silver and black broomstick.

"It's bloody sexy, that's what it is," Adrian said.

Cassandra wached them drool over the model broom with amusement, then called for the shopkeeper.

"Would replacing a Nimbus 2000 with the 2001 be worth it?" She asked. "How much faster is it going to be?"

"What position do you play?" The shopkeeper replied. He was of average height, but had a thick neck and a large, bulky frame. The typical beater's frame. Cassandra would bet every knut in her purse he'd played professionally. She wouldn't choose to play Quidditch in any position other than beater, but unlike the man, her game couldn't rely on her build. She was tall and slender, and had to compensate for her inferior physical strength with deadly accuracy and a lightning-quick reaction time. She couldn't hit as hard as most male beaters, but she had never been thrown from her broom during a match, and once her bat connected, the bludger never missed her target.

"Beater. But my boyfriend - the tall one with the hair over there - is a seeker, and my friend's a chaser," she answered.

"Not many female beaters," the shopkeeper observed. She couldn't detect any prejudice in his tone, he was simply stating a fact.

"I've been told I have a vicious arm," she said.

He gave her a nod, accepting her answer.

"The Nimbus 2000 performs around 0-90 in ten seconds, 0-100 in ideal conditions with a skilled flyer. The 2001 is going to do 0-100 easily, possibly as high as 0-120 in ten seconds," the burly man explained. "For a beater, broom acceleration isn't what's going to give you an edge over the other players, so you won't lose anything by sticking with a 2000, that broom is still top of the market. The positions where the upgrade is really worth the price tag are chaser and seeker. A seeker on that thing? Would have to work to lose a match."

She thanked the shopkeeper for the information and turned to find her boyfriend listening in on her conversation.

"Are you going to get one?" Cedric asked a little too casually.

Honestly, Cassandra thought, seekers and their brooms. "No reason to," she answered. "He's right, broom acceleration isn't as important to a beater as it is for a chaser, or a seeker. I can buy you one if you want, though."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, pulling her closer to him. "You gave me the fastest racing broom in the world for Christmas just last year, and I love it."

"For Yule," she corrected.

"For Yule," he agreed.

"And it's soon going to be the second fastest broom the world. I mean it, I'll order you one. Just say the word" she said.

Cedric laughed good-naturedly. "I'm not saying the word."

"You know you want to. Come on, say it," she goaded, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Say please Cassandra, my beautiful rich girlfriend, buy me a Nimbus 2001 so my House can have a chance in hell to win the Quidditch Cup, because my teammates are completely useless."

"I am not saying that, and I don't want a Nimbus 2001," he replied.

"Liar," Cassandra said, and Cedric childishly stuck out his tongue at her. She stuck hers back at him, and they kept up their teasing until they heard someone loudly clear their throat behind them.

"Can we go? Because If I have to watch the two of you for one more second I'll put my head through the shop window," Adrian said.

"I need to stop by Borgin and Burkes, but you don't need to come with," Cassandra said, addressing both wizards.

"I've never heard of it," Cedric said.

"That's because it's in Knockturn Alley," Adrian said. "It's an antique shop that sells all sorts of Dark Arts stuff."

"I'm not letting you go into Knockturn Alley alone," Cedric said. Cassandra cocked her head at his statement, and he faltered. "What I meant so say is, if you're going into Knockturn Alley, I'm coming with you."

"I'm definitely not," Adrian said. "That place creeps me out."

Cassandra noticed the reproving look Cedric shot the other boy. She wasn't the only one.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Adrian said, raising his hands in a universal gesture of surrender. "The Dark Arts are her birthright. Any place dedicated to it will welcome her with open arms. My family, however, makes trunks. I have no business being in Knockturn Alley."

"Very true. I'll be perfectly fine," Cassandra said.

They parted ways at the Leaky Cauldron, where Adrian flooed home and Cassandra and Cedric took the entrance into the infamous Knockturn Alley. The dingy alleyway was made up almost entirely of shops dedicated to the Dark Arts. Sinister-looking individuals skulked around, and sketchy street vendors invited the passersby to look at their products. It was a grim place filled with suspicious people and dangerous creatures, but Cassandra couldn't find it in herself to be put-off by it. Adrian was right. She was a Lestrange, and the daughter of a Black. There was no magic here her ancestors hadn't dabbled into, or creature they hadn't killed.

They walked by a pale, disturbingly gaunt vampire holding a tray full of vials of what looked like blood. It inhaled deeply as Cassandra crossed its path, but flinched back when Klaus let out a deep croaking call. Ravens were one of the few creatures with the capacity to cross freely between the land of the living and the land of the dead, and they could tell who didn't belong.

"I don't like it here," Cedric said quietly.

"That's obvious," Cassandra said, noticing how tense he was. "But I don't think that's what's really bothering you."

"Adrian's supposed to be your best friend," Cedric said. "He shouldn't have walked away when you announced you planned to walk into danger by yourself. I mean, look at this place. What if something happened to you?"

"In Knockturn Alley? Please," Cassandra said, rolling her eyes. "If I let a hag or a petty thief hurt me, then the small fortune grandfather has been paying Mr. Ivanovich to train me for years has been wasted for nothing. I can handle myself. The worst that might happen to me here today is I get fleeced by Mr. Borgin."

"Still, it's not right," Cedric insisted.

"Look, I love Adrian, he's my best friend, but he's not made of very stern stuff," Cassandra said. "If we did end up in a dangerous situation together, he'd be more trouble than help. I know that, he knows that, so he does the both of us a favor by taking an out when I offer him one. But when I need someone to perform dangerous, untested magic on, or to talk to about my problems and not worry about being judged, he's there for me. So don't be too hard on him," Cassandra said. "Please?"

Cedric side-eyed her, and she smiled sweetly at him.

"Fine. But I still think-"

"We're here," she announced, and dragged him into Borgin and Burkes before he could finish speaking.

When they stepped into the shop, it was Klaus that Cassandra felt getting alarmed. The raven flew from her shoulder to the top of her head for a better vantage point, something it did when it believed she might be under threat. Considering the amount of Dark magic she could feel emanating from the objects displayed in the dusty and dimly lit store, her familiar's reaction wasn't baseless.

"Don't touch anything," she whispered to Cedric. He nodded and clasped his hands behind his back, staying a step behind her to avoid getting in her way. She walked in front of the glass cases, looking at the products displayed, and sidestepped the weaponry that hung from the ceiling. Ritual masks stared down at her from the walls, and she stared back.

After a few minutes of browsing, she felt Klaus moving on his spot on her head, and deducted from his movements there was someone coming in her direction from her eight o'clock.

She was right. "Hello, Mr. Borgin," she said when she recognized the wiry, greasy looking wizard staring at her. It had been years since she'd last visited the shop with her grandfather, but the lanky Mr. Borgin was very easily distinguishable from she shop's other owner, the short and portly Mr. Burke.

The wizard in question bowed deeply to her. "Miss Lestrange, it's an honour. It's been so long since you graced you with your presence, for a moment I took you for your mother."

"Still in Azkaban, I'm afraid," Cassandra said.

"Yes. A tragedy, that is," Mr. Borgin said, excessively effusive. "Your family - on both sides, has always so faithfully patronized us. Please tell me, how may I be of assistance?"

She turned to the ghastly masks on the walls. "Are these cursed? I need something clean, that won't interfere with the magic I'm going to be channeling."

Mr. Borgin's eyes sparked alight with her question. "A ritualist, are you? Oh yes, the ones along the bottom have some magic residue from past use, but anything from the middle going up would suit your purposes well."

Cassandra looked at the masks one by one. Eventually, an onyx black mask made of what she guessed to be dragon hide caught her eye. The material had been sculpted to resemble the long beak and plumed top of a corvid's head. It would disguise her identity, but leave the lower half of her face uncovered. She pointed at it, and Mr. Borgin summoned it.

"Anything else, Miss Lestrange?" The smarmy shopkeeper asked her.

She almost turned to Cedric to ask for his opinion, but thought best not to direct Mr. Borgin's attention to him. She pointed to a bone-white mask that bore a resemblance to an animal skull, from which two large spiraled horns erupted. "Those are not bicorn horns, are they?"

The smile on the shopkeeper's face dimmed. "No, those came from a great kudu," he said. Cassandra couldn't recall ever having heard of such a creature. "A non-magical beast," he clarified. "Virtually identical horns though, I assure you not many wizards will be able to tell the difference."

She understood then he hadn't expected her to be able tell the difference either. The mask was probably priced as if the horns belonged to the cow-like magical creature known for its taste for male human meat. "I'll take it, but I expect to be charged accordingly."

"Of course, Miss, of course," Mr. Borgin said.

She moved to the displays of bones. "I'll need an assortment of human bones as well, small ones. Can you tell if they belonged to someone who suffered a violent death, or who passed from natural causes?"

"Do you have a preference, Miss?" Mr. Borgin asked.

"Yes, murder would be best, suicide is fine. And that will be all for today," she answered.

The wizard nodded, and started bagging the items she requested. Cassandra sneaked a glance at Cedric, who seemed to be focusing on not looking as uncomfortable and out-of-place as he had to be feeling.

"From what I knew of your parents, Miss Lestrange, they would be most pleased to know their daughter is upholding the old ways," Mr. Borgin said. He looked up at Klaus, and then back at her. "If you happen to start branching into the… bloodier arts, we have a wealth of resources you might be interested into."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said.

Cassandra paid for her purchases, then left the shop with Cedric in tow. Once they were back at the Leaky Cauldron, he exhaled as if expunging smoke from his lungs.

"I-" he started, "What-"

She waited patiently for her boyfriend to work through his thoughts.

"What did he mean by '_bloodier arts_'?" Cedric asked finally.

"Necromancy," Cassandra said. "Ravens have a close link with the afterlife. It makes them favoured companions for necromancers."

Cedric's face blanched at her answer. "You're not, though. Branching into…"

"Have you seen me trying to raise any dead lately?" Cassandra asked with mirth.

"What did you buy human bones for, then? Of murder and suicide victims?" Cedric asked, whispering the final words like he couldn't make himself say them out loud.

"They're for a Samhain ritual. I assure you, nothing untoward will be going on. I actually picked the horned mask for you, in case you want to participate," she said.

"You did?" Cedric asked with surprise.

"I did. So you don't have to worry about becoming a minion of evil in my Dark army anytime soon," Cassandra replied.

"You're not funny," Cedric said.

"I so am."


	15. Part 2, Chapter 4

The end of summer came quickly. On September 1st, Mimi took Cassandra and Cedric to platform nine and three quarters, and they caught the Hogwarts Express back to school. During the start-of-term feast, Cassandra sat between Adrian and the Bloody Baron, and ignored her little cousin rambling about Harry Potter's absence and the likelihood of his expulsion from Hogwarts. She heard later from a Slytherin prefect that instead of taking the train, the boy-who-lived had chosen to arrive by flying car with Fred and George Weasley's little brother, and vowed on the spot to find a spell to make herself temporarily deaf, in order to be spared from listening to Draco's envious whining.

When a Howler went off at the Gryffindor table in the middle of breakfast the next day, Cassandra decided to test out an idea she'd had the night before. She had spent hours in bed considering the possibility of getting an Imperturbable Charm to work on a human being. The charm was a simple one, conventionally used to create an invisible barrier around an object. The barrier could be penetrated by spells, but objects and sound would bounce off it. She believed a small change in the charm's incantation and a good amount of focus during casting might be enough to make it work. If so, she could use the spell on herself whenever she wanted silence. She checked to see if anyone was watching her, then as discreetly as she could, pointed her wand across the table at Adrian, and muttered the altered incantation.

It took only a second until Adrian started looking around, seeming confused. He started speaking to her, but she couldn't hear whatever he was saying - apparently, the charm muted sounds both ways. Seeing he was getting frantic, Cassandra raised her hand and silently told him to calm down. Once he did, she threw a bread roll at his face. He was so surprised by the action he didn't even try to duck, and watched, stunned, as the bread roll bounced off the invisible barrier around him and fell on the table. Cassandra annulled the spell, satisfied with her experiment.

"- in the bloody hell was that?" Adrian asked.

"Magic," Cassandra said. "I was trying something out. Could you hear anything?"

"No, just a faint murmur," Adrian said. "You could've given me a heads up."

She smiled, happy her idea had worked, and he scowled at her.

"You know what, I miss single Cassandra. Maybe she was dark and unhappy and also tested out her crazy ideas on me, but at least she didn't look so smug about it," Adrian complained.

"_Aww, does Adrian miss single Cassandra_?" She mimicked in a high-pitched, mocking tone. "Well, maybe Adrian needs to get some action, and that'll remove the stick that's currently lodged up his ass."

"Miss Lestrange," said an unmistakable cold voice behind her, "I encourage my students to refrain from using such vulgar language where they might be overheard. Our House has a reputation to uphold."

Cassandra held in an exasperated sigh, and turned around to face Professor Snape.

Severus Snape approached teaching with an abrasive and spiteful attitude that won him little regard from most students; the vocal minority being his Slytherin pupils, whom as Head of House, the Potions teacher favoured openly. However, despite benefiting from his preferential treatment, Cassandra detested the man as fiercely as any militant Gryffindor. But her animosity was founded on a knowledge she doubted any of them had.

Shortly after the Dark Lord's downfall, a captured Death Eater by the name of Igor Karkaroff appeared before the Wizengamot Council of Magical Law, offering information in a desperate attempt to stay out of Azkaban. He gave up the identity of many of his fellow Death Eaters, among them, Severus Snape. The only thing that kept Snape from sharing a cell block with Cassandra's family at the time was a testimony given by Albus Dumbledore, to the fact that Snape had acted as a valuable spy amongst the Dark Lord's ranks for the last year and a half of the war.

Maybe in another world, where the Lestranges had prioritized family over cause, and renounced the Dark Lord after his disappearance as so many had, Cassandra wouldn't have felt compelled to read smuggled transcripts of the Death Eater trials, in an attempt to understand the choices her parents had made. In that world, she might've respected or even liked Professor Snape. But in this world, the last thing Bellatrix Lestrange had ever told her daughter was to never trust a traitor. Cassandra's feelings about her family's acts in the name of pureblood supremacy aside, she had always heeded her mother's advice.

Cassandra met Snape's eyes with a look of open disinterest. He was her teacher, but in every way that mattered to the pureblood society he had fought for and eventually betrayed, she was his better. He silently handed her a piece of parchment, and she turned back around without acknowledging his reprimand, a clear dismissal. She felt him standing still behind her for a few seconds, and then he moved along the Slytherin table, handing out what she saw now were course schedules.

"You're insane," Adrian mouthed to her. She winked back at him.

Cassandra looked at her schedule and saw they had double Charms with the Hufflepuffs that morning.

The pair of Slytherins walked into Professor Flitwick's classroom to find Cedric already there, with a seat by his side reserved for his girlfriend. Cassandra basked in the envious looks she received when she sat down beside him.

Cedric leaned towards her, and she stood still as she felt his mouth close to her ear. "I missed you," he whispered.

Cassandra closed her eyes, enjoying the shiver that went down her spine. She interlaced her fingers with his under the table and turned her head so he could hear what she whispered back. "I missed you too."

Their first lesson of the year was on Summoning Charms. Professor Flitwick went over the theory, then had them attempt to summon objects across the room. Cassandra and Cedric did it accurately on their first attempts; some students failed to make the objects move the whole distance and others, in a more entertaining display, couldn't catch the summoned objects in time, and ended up being hit in the face.

"What do you have this afternoon?" Cedric asked as they traipsed back to the Great Hall for lunch.

"History of Magic with Binns. I'm going to see if there's anything interesting on the extra books Professor Flitwick assigned. What about you?" Cassandra said.

"Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. I'll see you later?" Cedric replied. Cassandra squeezed his hand, and he gave her a smile filled with affection before heading to the Hufflepuff table.

Professor Binns' class was as dull as ever; the ghost managed to lull half of his students to sleep with a monotonous lecture on the first goblin rebellion of the eighteenth century. By the end of it, however, Cassandra knew what project she would be spending her days on for the foreseeable future. Ivanovich had long ago drilled into her mind that she couldn't claim to have truly mastered a spell until she was able to cast it nonverbally, with the same effectiveness. Nonverbal casting demanded a fair amount of concentration and mental discipline, but wasn't beyond her capabilities. But a passing mention of something that she'd never considered before on one of Flitwick's books had intrigued her - wandless summoning. With few notable exceptions, having their wand taken immediately rendered most wizards defenseless. But if a disarmed wizard were able to perform a wandless summoning charm, they could simply order their wand back to them. Even if wandless magic was supposed to be difficult to perform and could have volatile results if not done properly, it seemed to her that every witch and wizard ought to do their very best to learn at least this one spell.

"What are you doing?" Adrian asked her. It was a cold, overcast morning, and she sitting on a stone bench in the windy courtyard, with her wand drawn and Klaus flying in tight circles above her head.

"Watch this," Cassandra said. She cleared her mind and focused on picturing one single worm. She visualized its brown, cylindrical, slimy body. Once satisfied with the image, she moved her wand in a half-circle motion and willed the creature to come to her, voicing the incantation in her mind. At once, an earthworm shot up from the ground and zoomed in her direction, only to be snatched mid-air by Klaus before it could reach her. They had been playing this game for about thirty minutes now.

"Did you just summon that nonverbally?" Adrian asked, his eyebrows raised. "Wait, I thought it wasn't possible to summon live creatures."

"Doesn't apply to worms, according to Miranda Goshawk,_" _Cassandra said. She had read that while he was snoring by her side on Binns' class.

"I read the chapter on Summoning Charms last night and I'm pretty sure it didn't say anything about worms," Adrian said.

"It's in _The Wonderbook of Spells_, not _The Standard Book of Spells_," Cassandra replied.

"You already did Flitwick's extra reading? You know what, don't answer that. I'd rather not know," Adrian groaned. "We should go, I don't want to be late to Professor Lockhart's class."

"Oooh right, we wouldn't want to disappoint Professor Lockhart, would we?" Cassandra said. "But if we did, maybe he would _punish us…"_

"You are not going to ruin this for me," Adrian said, wagging his finger at her. "I mean it, Lestrange. You have Diggory looking better than ever at your beck and call, and all I have is my right hand. I intend to stack up on as many dirty fantasies featuring Lockhart as I can before the curse gets him, and you will not ruin that for me."

"Fine," Cassandra said, throwing up her hands in surrender.

"Say it. Say you will not ruin Gilderoy Lockhart for me," Adrian demanded.

"I will not ruin Gilderoy Lockhart for you," Cassandra repeated.

They took a table front and center and waited for Lockhart to arrive. He swept into the classroom wearing perfectly tailored indigo robes, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned indigo hat with gold trimming.

"Hello, class," Lockhart started. "I'm sure you all already know who I am. Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five - yes, I said FIVE - time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award. But let's not delve too deeply into that. I didn't defeat the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

There was a rehearsed pause, and quite a few students laughed. Cassandra smirked to herself. One could always trust Slytherins to know how to play an authority figure.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books, very well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about, just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in."

He handed out the test papers and returned to the front of the class. "You have thirty minutes starting now!"

Cassandra started shaking with silent laughter around question thirteen - _'What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite style of sleepwear?' _The sheer impropriety of a teacher quizzing his teenage students about his nightclothes was enough to throw her into hysterics. But having promised Adrian she wouldn't mess with his Lockhart fantasies, she tried her best to be silent, and not call attention to herself. By the time the clearly deranged man collected their papers, Cassandra's face was streaked with tears, and bright red from her effort to stay quiet. She risked a glance at Adrian, and completely lost it at the look of disappointment in his face.

"Yes?" Lockhart smiled at her when he heard the high-pitched noise she let out.

Cassandra took a deep breath, wiping the corner of her eyes with her robes in an attempt to buy some time.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said. "I'm just… such a big fan."

She heard a snort behind her and pressed her lips shut to hold in another fit.

"A fan, how wonderful!" Lockhart beamed. "I'm sure you'll get full marks!"

She was sure she wouldn't.

Lockhart went over a few of the incorrect responses on the quizzes, at one point clarifying his secret ambition was _not _to father the first half-wizard half-yeti creature, as one student had answered question number two.

"Now let's get down to business! I see from your tests many of you consider _Wanderings with Werewolves_ to be your favorite book of mine - I'll confess, my intrepid defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf was the stuff of legends - so I thought I might recreate the final duel right here for you. Isn't that brilliant?"

A few people nodded.

"Alright, so who would like to assist me in this task? Now, I must warn you I am quite a gifted actor."

Before anyone else could volunteer, Cassandra elbowed Adrian's side hard. He jumped in his chair with a startled yelp, and Lockhart clapped his hands with glee.

"I see we have a volunteer!"

A few minutes later, Lockhart had Adrian pinned down on the ground. "Nice loud howl, Mr. Pucey—exactly—and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced—like this—slammed him to the floor—thus with one hand, I managed to hold him down—with my other, I put my wand to his throat—I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the Homorphus Charm—he let out a piteous moan—go on, higher than that—good—the fur vanished—the fangs shrank—and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective—and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

The teacher got up to his feet, then gallantly offered a hand to assist Adrian, who seemed a little stiff as he walked back to his seat.

"Any questions?" Lockhart asked.

Someone's hand shot up at the back. "Professor Lockhart, you say on page 97 that you were actually able to cure the Wagga Wagga Werewolf. If there is a known cure for lycanthropy, then why doesn't the Ministry use it, instead of letting them run rabid?"

"Oh yes, very good question. The Homorphus Charm is an immensely complex spell. I am able to cast it perfectly of course, but most wizards are only able to use it to temporarily return a werewolf to human form. Not everyone is as gifted as me, I'm afraid."

The bell rang, and Lockhart assigned them a poem on his defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf for homework before dismissing the class.

"So," Cassandra said to her friend as they walked out of the classroom. "Are you coming down for lunch, or are you hurrying to your room to get some use out of that right hand?"

"There is nothing you can say to me right now that will make me mad at you, Lestrange," Adrian said. "By Merlin, he might be an idiot, but when he grabbed my throat I thought I was going to-"

"That's quite enough information, thank you," Cassandra laughed. "And you're welcome for the spank material, by the way. I know it can be hard to be around someone who has everything, but besides being brilliant, beautiful, obscenely rich and having the world's greatest boyfriend, I also happen to be an amazing friend."

"I'm not even denying that right now, that's how much I just enjoyed myself," Adrian sighed.

That afternoon, an hour before dinner, Cassandra and Adrian headed to the Quidditch field for a meeting called by Marcus Flint, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. He was a tall and brawny sixth year; a gifted chaser and solid captain.

"I have some news," Flint said. "We won the Quidditch Cup last year, as we've done every year since this team has been together-"

"Yeah!" cheered Miles Bletchley, their Keeper.

"But it was a near thing. We were lucky Potter couldn't play the last game of the season, otherwise things might have ended differently. So I think it's time for some change. I've already talked to Higgs, and he's agreed to be our reserve seeker for the year. We're bringing in someone new."

"Are we holding tryouts, then?" Adrian asked.

"No. Our new seeker has already been selected; it's going to be Draco Malfoy," Flint answered.

"Why?" Cassandra asked. "I mean, I'm all for change if it means winning the Cup, but I've seen Draco play. He's solid, but so is Higgs. If we're going for a fresh player, why not hold an open tryout, see who does best."

"I'm going to level with you all," Flint said. "In exchange for Malfoy coming in as our seeker, his father has offered to buy our entire team Nimbus 2001s."

Adrian whistled.

"As Lestrange said, Malfoy is a solid seeker, I've seen him fly myself. Whatever adjustments we have to make to account for his inexperience will be more than offset by the extra speed and maneuverability we'll get on those brooms. We'll be flying on the fastest racing brooms in the world, against a bunch of slugs on Comets and Cleansweeps. The Cup will be ours for the taking!" Flint shouted.

Confident in their abilities and excited by the prospect of being gifted a Nimbus 2001, most of his players shouted back.

"Now, I want to start practicing as soon as possible. The field is booked for the weekend, but I'll get Professor Snape to give us a special authorization or something. I'll see you all here on Saturday, at eight o'clock sharp."

Cassandra waited for her fellow players to leave to speak with Flint privately.

"Are you sure about this, captain? I know the offer of the 2001s is enticing, but Draco's not a team player. If you'd asked for my opinion, I would've told you Higgs is the better choice," Cassandra said.

"You're a good player, Lestrange, and you know I respect you, but it's my job to do what's best for the team, regardless of any player's personal animosities," Flint said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked.

"Mr. Malfoy warned me you kept your distance from Draco because of some unresolved family business. Said you might try to convince me not to put him on the team because of it," Flint replied.

Cassandra was too incredulous to even come up with a response. She distrusted Lucius and her aunt Narcissa because of their actions during the war and its aftermath, but that didn't extend to Draco. She didn't like her little cousin simply because he was a pompous git. Nonetheless, she had been raised to believe that family matters should be handled behind closed doors. It rankled her that Lucius would level such an accusation against her behind her back, instead of broaching the issue personally.

"Do you really believe Draco's the best choice for the team?" She asked finally.

"I do," Flint answered without hesitation.

She hoped he was right.

It only took her three days to conclude he definitely wasn't. Just as they'd been instructed, the team had met at the edge of the Quidditch field at eight a.m. on Saturday, with their new broomsticks in hand and Draco in tow. Cassandra had stood stoically while Flint exchanged unpleasantries with the Gryffindor Captain, tuning out their bickering over scheduling in favour of thinking about the time she and Cedric had spent together in an empty classroom the day before. But even distracted, she had known things were going to get out of hand when the argument between the two captains was interrupted by Harry Potter's two best friends - small Weasley and bushy-haired girl.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," bushy-haired girl said to Draco after a few pointed exchanges. "They got in on pure talent."

It was obvious she struck a nerve by Draco's hateful reply, "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood."

There was an instant uproar. Flint had to dive in front of Draco to stop the twins from jumping on him, Alicia Spinnet was shrieking; and small Weasley pointed his wand at Draco, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!"

Before she could decide if she was going to cast a shield or let her cousin pay for his idiocy, Fred and George's little brother - Ron, apparently, was on the floor vomiting slugs. Cassandra looked on disapprovingly as her teammates were doubled up with laughter. As soon as Ron was taken away by his friends, she cut off the argument she knew was going to start over what had just happened.

"Fred, George," she called out. The twins turned to her, along with everyone else. "If the muggleborn girl-"

"Her name is Hermione," Alicia Spinnet spat at her.

"If Hermione wants to lodge a complaint against Draco, I'll back her up with Professor Snape," she said evenly. The Gryffindors looked at her in astonishment, Draco started to yell his indignation. She drew her wand and silenced him with the Imperturbable Charm she'd tested on Adrian. "And I'm sorry about your brother," she continued. Everyone was looking between her and Draco, who at this point seemed to be yelling at the top of his lungs, even though they couldn't hear anything. "I'd concede the field to your team, but I don't think you'll be continuing practice without your seeker."

"No need," Oliver Wood said awkwardly. "That's alright, we'll leave."

She waited until they were out of sight to ask her team to step away so she could speak with her cousin.

"What did you do to me? You can't do that!" Draco said angrily once she cancelled the Imperturbable Charm.

"But I just did," she said calmly, her head cocked to the side. "I can do it again right now if I want to."

"You won't," Draco said, but his voice was wobbling. "I- I'll tell my father."

"And what exactly do you think he's going to do to me, Draco?" Cassandra asked. "Your father is just as pathetic as you are."

Draco drew in a sharp breath at her words.

"You think throwing that word around makes you a proper wizard? That it makes you powerful? That muggleborn girl is right. You're a pureblood; your existence is owed to centuries of selective breeding, and you still couldn't even make a school Quidditch team without having to buy your way in. You should be ashamed. But that's the problem with you Malfoys; you fail to realize money can't buy you everything. It can't buy you talent on that broom," Cassandra said, then got close enough to the boy that their noses were nearly touching. "And you tell your gutless father, it won't buy his way back into the Dark Lord's good graces, either."


	16. Part 2, Chapter 5

Cassandra stared at the 12¾" yew wand on the edge of her bed, trying with all her might to make it fly to her. _'Accio wand,'_ she repeated in her mind once again. A bead of sweat ran down the back of her neck, and the tension in her temples warned her of an oncoming headache - she'd been at this for more than an hour. One more try, she thought stubbornly. _'Accio wand!'_

Nothing. With great frustration, she wiped the sweat that had accumulated on her hairline and reached forward for the uncooperative object.

She found Adrian playing wizard's chess in the common room with a third year, who promptly scurried away upon seeing her. She sat in a carved chair across her friend and continued the game from where her predecessor had left it.

"Anything?" Adrian asked.

"Not even a twitch. It's been a whole month, I should be able to do it by now," she complained. "Your turn."

"You're a fourth year trying to perform a nonverbal wandless spell," Adrian said, making a move that got him one of her knights. "You can't perform incredibly advanced and notoriously difficult magic? Welcome to the club."

"Whatever," Cassandra replied. "I just feel as if there's this… wall, keeping me from being able to access my magic without a wand, and I have no clue how to break through it."

Adrian hummed noncommittally; he clearly wasn't too invested in the subject.

"Forget it," she said, moving on from the topic. "Have you decided if you're coming with me to Cedric's party tomorrow?"

A month into term, she'd been invited by a Hufflepuff prefect to attend a surprise party the Hufflepuff Quidditch team was planning for Cedric's birthday. She'd been bewildered by their willingness to include her, and even more so by Professor Sprout's reassurance she was welcome to visit the Hufflepuff Basement for the celebration - she couldn't imagine the same ever happening if Cedric were to approach Professor Snape.

"Sorry, but I promised Flint we'd meet up to go over the new plays for the season," Adrian answered without looking up from the chess board. He was within a couple moves of beating her - that third year had been playing a horrid game.

"You and Flint, huh. Just the two of you?" Cassandra asked with faux innocence.

Adrian looked at her crossly, she smiled a small, amused smile.

The next day, at five o'clock, Cassandra made her way to the kitchen corridor where the entrance to the Hufflepuff Basement was concealed. She tapped the correct barrel to the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff', and with a resigned sigh crawled through the passageway that led to the cellar.

Even though she'd expected their common room to be different from her own, the actual sight of it was jarring. When she thought of Hogwarts, she thought of the cool stone walls and greenish lamps of the Slytherin Dungeon, of iron and silver and black leather, and the relaxing swishing sound of the lake that could be heard at night. The room she was in was all wood and copper and warm earthy tones, filled with plants and brightly illuminated by sunlight.

"Hello!" Said someone, snapping Cassandra out of her musings.

"Hello, Preece," Cassandra replied, recognizing the brown-haired wizard who played as a chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and was close friends with her boyfriend. "I thought the team would be at practice right now, keeping Cedric busy."

"Oh, that's just him and Max," Preece answered. Max Tupper was the current Hufflepuff Captain, and had been priming Cedric to be his replacement since the beginning of the year, his last at Hogwarts. "The rest of us stayed back to get everything ready."

"Right. So, how can I help?"

Forty minutes later, Cassandra was yelling "Happy Birthday!" to a surprised Cedric alongside what seemed to be half of the Hufflepuff students. She hung back and watched him accept birthday wishes with grace and earnest gratitude. When he finally registered her presence, his face broke into a brilliant smile. '_I love him,'_ she thought for the first time in her life, and something that for long had been tightly rolled inside her chest began to unfurl.

"I'm so glad you're here," Cedric said, wrapping her in a hug that lifted her off the ground.

"Happy birthday," Cassandra replied. Three words sat at the tip of her tongue, eager to slip from her mouth; but they were surrounded by people and she felt too protective of their relationship to share that moment with anyone else. "Thank you for being in my life."

"Thank you for letting me," Cedric said. "I love you."

_'I love you, too,'_ she thought, but kissed him instead. Cedric's friends hollered at them.

"Do you mind if we mingle? I don't want to be rude," he said, a faint pink blush colouring his cheeks.

"Of course not, it's your party," she smiled.

Cassandra had never been to a surprise birthday party before, but even if she had, she doubted the stiff-upper-lipped purebloods she reluctantly socialized with would go about it the way the Hufflepuffs did. There were cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; people were draped over overstuffed sofas and chairs; and someone had turned the wireless on to play the Weird Sisters. Considering her last name and the rumors that had followed her in the past about her supposed involvement with the Dark Arts, Cassandra had expected to be given a wide berth by Cedric's housemates, but that wasn't the case. They had seemingly decided that if Cedric trusted her, so would the rest of them.

"So, what's Slytherin's opinion on Professor Lockhart, Lestrange? We haven't been able to reach a consensus yet," asked Gabriel Truman, the prefect who had approached her about the party.

"I don't know about Slytherin as a whole, but my opinion is that he's a terrible teacher," Cassandra said.

"But all the things he's done!" Exclaimed a Hufflepuff witch (Tam… something Applewood? Applebee? Cassandra was terrible with names).

"If he's actually accomplished all he claims to have - and that's a big if, then no one can dispute his skills at offensive magic," Cassandra said. "But even then, what does reenacting his books in class accomplish? We can all read. He could at least attempt to teach the spells mentioned in them."

"That would be nice. Can you imagine, being able to banish a hag?" The other girl said.

"I'd like to learn the spell he used at the end of Wanderings With Werewolves to make sure the Wagga Wagga Werewolf would never transform again. Think of how many lives could be improved if it were more widely known! I can't think of a worse fate than being infected with lycanthropy and having to live the rest of your life as a dark creature," Gabriel said.

"I asked my dad about that, and he told me no one in the history of the Department of Magical Creatures has ever managed to permanently cure a werewolf using the Homorphus Charm; only to temporarily return them to their human form. And every wizard in the Werewolf Capture Unit has to be able to perform it to make it into the squad," Cedric offered.

"And it's not as 'immensely complex' as Lockhart says it is, either," Cassandra said. "It's essentially an untransfiguration spell. You visualise their original form, put your will behind the casting and say the incantation. The reason why it's so rarely used is because it takes a monumental amount of willpower to trigger the change. Well, and also, the tip of your wand has to be placed against the throat of the creature you want to turn back into human, and once a werewolf has you that close-" she felt a shudder going through Cedric's body where he had his arm around her, "your best hope is that it finishes you off quickly."

"How do you know all of that?" Gabriel asked.

"Good summer tutor," Cassandra answered.

When the party began to wind down, Cassandra nudged Cedric towards a spot of the common room where they could talk without being overheard.

"I have something to give you, but I don't want to do it in front of an audience," Cassandra said.

"You didn't have to get me anything," Cedric said. She rolled her eyes at him. "We could go to my dorm? No one's going to be in there at this hour."

"Do you have any idea what people are going to say when they notice the two of us disappeared into your dorm room in the middle of your birthday party? Do you have any concern at all for my reputation, Cedric Diggory?"

Cedric blushed so hard the top of his ears turned red. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thin-"

"Lead the way," Cassandra interrupted him with a cheeky smile.

"How can you be so infuriating?" Cedric said once they reached his dorm room and he closed the door behind them, backing Cassandra up against it. "And still make me so - damn - crazy - for you," he said between kisses.

"The fury is half of the allure," she murmured against his mouth before kissing him back.

"Do you want to see your presents or not?" Cassandra asked after a while.

"Presents. As in more than one," Cedric said.

"Just two; so you don't have to freak out," Cassandra said, letting him lead her towards his bed. She sat down in the middle of the four-poster bed, ran her hand over the patchwork quilt that covered it. "As a matter of fact, I'd like you to promise me you're not going to freak out."

"Why?" Cedric asked with suspicion.

"Because you and I have different attitudes to money, and I don't want to be deprived of gifting you something because you might be weird about it," Cassandra answered. "So instead of you insisting you can't accept your presents, and me insisting you can until I wear you down and you relent; you can simply promise not to freak out, and spare us both the trouble."

"Will giving me whatever it is you got me make you happy?" Cedric sighed.

"Yes."

"Then fine. I promise I won't freak out," he said.

"Thank you!" Cassandra said, and gave him a loud smacking kiss on the cheek. She took two small packages out of her robes pocket and performed the counter-spell to the Shrinking Charm she'd placed on the items earlier.

"You didn't," Cedric said, eyeing a long rectangular package topped with a bright red bow. The shape of a broomstick was unmistakable, even when covered in wrapping paper.

"I did."

He unwrapped the brand new Nimbus 2001 with great care, handling as one would a precious treasure. "But-"

"You promised you wouldn't freak out," she reminded him. "I wasn't planning on getting you one, until my uncle bought one of those for everyone in the Slytherin team to bribe my idiot cousin's way in. You can see it as my way of… balancing the scales. You're a Hufflepuff, you're supposed to care about fairness."

Cedric listened to her rant with a smile. "Thank you. I love it."

"You do?"

"I do."

"Great! Now open this one," Cassandra said, handing the other package to him.

Something fluttered in her stomach when Cedric ran his fingers over the letters engraved on the cover of the first of the four books in front of him. It had taken her a considerable amount of effort to get her hands on them, and unlike the racing broom, the books had personal significance to her boyfriend.

"I know I said I had only gotten you two presents, but it's really one book divided in four volumes; so technically, it wasn't a lie."

Cedric opened the book and gasped at what he saw on its first page. "It's a first edition."

"I know," Cassandra said. "I hope you can read Spanish. If you can't, it's an illustrated version, so you can still look at the pictures."

"It's my favorite book."

"When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies?" Cassandra quoted. "Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams - this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness - and maddest of all:"

"To see life as it is, and not as it should be," Cedric finished. "You read it."

"I did," Cassandra said. _'I love you'_, she thought, but the weight of those words was suddenly impossibly heavy. How could she possibly say them? Did she deserve to love someone like Cedric - someone so genuinely good, when one day she would turn into a terrifying, soulless monster?

"Hey, don't cry," Cedric said softly, wiping a tear she hadn't noticed shedding. "I love it, I really do. It's perfect. You're perfect."

She let him comfort her, and promised to herself she would tell him soon.

The end of October came quickly. Between classwork, Quidditch practice, Occlumency exercises and more fruitless attempts at mastering wandless summoning, Cassandra managed to go through the rest of the month without revisiting the issue of whether she should tell Cedric about her feelings or not. By the time the 31st arrived, she had another, more timely confession to make.

"What do you mean, he doesn't know today's your birthday?" Adrian asked her during lunch.

"Why would he know that?" Cassandra replied. "You know I don't celebrate my birthday. The only people who know it are what's left of my family and you, and I've forbidden all of you from acknowledging it."

"The two of you have been together for almost a year," Adrian said as if she were slow. "At some point he'll do the math and realize you must have had a birthday and didn't tell him about it."

"So what?" Cassandra shrugged.

"What do you mean so what?" Adrian asked, his voice going up an octave. "He's your boyfriend. It's insane that you're hiding your birthday from him just because you don't want to tell him you have a hang-up about it."

"I don't have a hang-up about my birthday," Cassandra said. Adrian stared at her impatiently. "Fine, I do have a hang-up about my birthday. But I don't see why it's such a big deal that I'm not rushing to tell him about it. It's just one of those things."

"One of what things?" Adrian frowned.

"One of those things… everyone has things they don't talk about, mine's my birthday. It's not as if I'm planning to lie to him if the subject ever comes up naturally. I'll tell him then," Cassandra said defensively.

"You're acting like an insane person. No, you're acting like a coward," Adrian said.

"I'm not a coward," Cassandra protested.

"Yes, you are," Adrian replied.

"No, I'm not!"

"Then go tell him today's your birthday. Say you don't like to celebrate it, but you thought he should know. That easy," Adrian said.

She hesitated.

"Coward."

"Fine! Have it your way," Cassandra spat out, getting up from her seat. She marched to the Hufflepuff table; when Cedric noticed her, she motioned towards the entrance to the Great Hall.

"What happened? Is something wrong?" Cedric asked, catching up to her.

"No, nothing's wrong. I just realized I forgot to tell you something," Cassandra answered. Was her voice higher than usual?

"Is it about the ritual tonight? I haven't forgotten," Cedric said.

"Of course you haven't," Cassandra muttered, mostly to herself. _'It'll be fine,'_ she chanted in her mind, _'He loves you, it'll be fine.'_

"So," she continued. "Remember how your birthday was at the beginning of the month?"

"I remember my own birthday, yes," Cedric answered with an amused little smile.

"Well, today is mine," she blubbered.

"What?"

"Today is my birthday. I was born right as the clock struck midnight between the 30th and 31st of October, fifteen years ago. My parents saw it as an omen of power. Please don't say happy birthday," Cassandra pleaded, her cheeks heating up.

"I- sure, if that's what you want. May I ask why?" Cedric said.

"I have a thing about it," Cassandra said awkwardly.

"A thing," he repeated.

"I don't celebrate my birthday," she said, thoroughly uncomfortable. "My parents used to when I was little, or so I've been told. But my earliest birthday memory is from October 31st, 1981."

Cedric drew a sharp breath. "That was when-"

"The Dark Lord was vanquished, yes. All I remember is being in my room, Mimi brushing my hair; then hearing the most anguished, horrified scream you can imagine. I walked to the top of the stairs to see what was happening, and my mother was… She was shrieking uncontrollably, throwing curses around. It seemed as if someone had ripped her heart from her chest, and she couldn't bear the pain."

"I'm… so sorry you had to witness that," Cedric said.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks. "The next year, my parents were so devoted to finding him, they weren't even in the country for it. And the year after that I was already with grandfather, and he's never been too good at remembering important dates. It became a day I dread rather than one I look forward to, and the last thing I want is to have to put on a fake smile and act like I don't bloody hate this day, every single year. That's why I hate receiving birthday wishes."

"No birthday wishes, easy; I can do that. Anything else?" Cedric asked.

"No birthday gifts, either," she added.

Cedric didn't say anything, but the frown between his brows betrayed his feelings.

"You can give me an extra gift for Yule if you want to, but nothing for my birthday. I would prefer it to go unacknowledged entirely. We'll celebrate Samhain like proper wizards instead, and that'll be that," Cassandra said.

"Alright. Samhain is a great holiday, who wouldn't want to celebrate it?" Cedric said. Cassandra's heart skipped at his easy acceptance. "By the way," he continued, "and please know this has nothing to do with what you just told me, is there anything you've had your eye on lately? Maybe something that would be a good Yule present for a guy to give his girlfriend?"

Cassandra smiled despite herself, narrowing her eyes at her boyfriend's obvious attempt to lift her spirits. "And this has nothing to do with me?"

"It might have a little to do with you. Just a little," Cedric conceded.

Cassandra thought about it. Just then, a brilliant idea struck her. "You know how one of my very favourite things in the world is aggravating people I don't like?"

"Yes, you're amazing at it," Cedric replied.

"Currently, my cousin and his father are at the top of that list; and I know something you can give me I can use to get an inordinate amount of joy at their expense," she said.

"What?"

"Do you still have your last broom?"

"The Nimbus 2000 you gave me last year?" Cedric asked. She nodded. "I do, why?"

"I want it as a gift," Cassandra said.

"Your gift can't be something you gave to me," Cedric said with exasperation. "You're essentially gifting yourself."

"I don't care, it's what I want," she replied.

"You're going to drive me to insanity one of these days. Of course you can have the broom, but it doesn't count as a real present," he said. "I'm still getting you another gift for Yule, that you didn't pay for."

"Fine by me," she shrugged. "Would you mind getting it for me now?"

"You're not serious," Cedric said.

Cassandra gave him a beatific smile, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Please? It's really the best Yule present I think of. It would make me so very happy."

"Just for clarification, you want me to give you a Yule present on the day of your birthday, even though I'm expressly forbidden from giving you a birthday present?"

"It makes sense if you don't think too hard about it."

"Fine, you maddening witch," Cedric said, grabbing both sides of her face to plant a hard quick kiss on her lips. "I'll be right back."

"I love you!" Cassandra said to his retreating back before she could catch herself. Both of them froze, Cedric turned on the spot to look at her.

"What did you say?" He asked.

"Nothing," Cassandra said. "I didn't say anything." Her heart was beating so hard, she felt it might leap out of her throat at any moment. "I'll see you," she said lamely. "Because you're coming right back; I'll see you."

Cedric didn't call her out on her cowardice, accepting her reluctance like seemed to accept everything else about her. "I'll see you, too," he said tenderly, infusing those words with meaning, and she understood him just as he had understood her.

Cassandra rushed to her dorm room to get her own old Nimbus 2000, waited for Cedric to come back with his, then walked out of the castle to one of her favourite spots, near the Forbidden Forest.

"Ouch," Fred Weasley said, trying to bat Klaus away from him and towards his brother. "Stop biting me you damn bird; I'm coming with you, aren't I?"

Cassandra whistled sharply, Klaus flew to her and landed gently on her shoulder.

"Oi, Lestrange," Fred called out, "you have got to find a less aggressive courier to deliver your messages."

"What would be the fun in that?" She asked. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course we came, you're our friend," George said.

"You even managed to convince some people on our team you aren't a pureblood git like the rest of your family with that smackdown you handed Malfoy," Fred grinned. "Offering to back up Hermione like you did was pretty decent of you, Cassie."

"Yes, I'm the very image of decency," she replied. "Actually, what I want to talk about is somewhat related to that."

"We're all ears," said Fred and George together.

"Please don't do that. Remember how Draco's father bought our whole team Nimbus 2001s?" Cassandra asked.

"How could we forget?" Fred said darkly. "It's only all Malfoy talks about whenever we're unfortunate enough to see him."

"Well, as it so happens, thanks to my uncle's generous donation I have two Nimbus 2000s in excellent condition I have no use for anymore, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather have flying on them than the two of you. So, what do you think?" Cassandra asked, moving to reveal the racing broomsticks behind her.

"How come you have two of them?" George asked her, but his eyes were glued to the brooms.

"I'm very rich," Cassandra replied easily.

"We don't need your charity," Fred said, crossing his arms. "We've beaten your team on our Cleensweeps before, we'll beat you again."

"Right, because I'm well-known for my charitable nature," Cassandra said. "I'm not offering to give them to you, I'm selling them."

"How much?" George asked, but he seemed almost afraid to hear her answer.

"One Galleon," Cassandra said.

"One Galleon? That's ridiculous, woman. Even used, those brooms are worth a hundred times that," Fred exclaimed.

"Two Galleons, then. One Galleon each seems fair to me, and that's my final offer."

"George, is she messing with us?" Fred said.

"I have no idea, Fred," George replied.

"I know this might be hard to understand since you don't come from a family of psychos who choose their spouses based on purity of blood and financial prospects, but when I say I'm very rich, I mean it. I could buy a Nimbus 2001 for every single person in this school, and still have plenty of money left. Whether I get two or two hundred Galleons for these brooms makes no difference to me," Cassandra said. "What I really want in return for them is the pleasure of knowing that my uncle's pathetic bribing scheme resulted in two Gryffindor Quidditch players getting top-of-the-market brooms, at essentially no cost. In a way, it's like he'll have subsidized them."

"And why on Merlin's sagging bollocks do you think we would ever accept anything bought with Malfoy's money?" Fred asked heatedly.

"These brooms were bought with my money, he just happened to buy their replacement. And the answer is: because that would infuriate him," Cassandra said.

"This doesn't feel right," Fred said, looking at his brother. George agreed.

"Fine, then can you get Spinnet and your other chaser for me, please? Not Bell, the one that can't stay on her broom," Cassandra asked them. "I don't think they would respond too well to Klaus' approach."

"Do you mean Angelina Johnson?" George asked.

"If that's her name, then yes," Cassandra said.

"Hey, she's a perfectly good flyer, you know that was a dirty play from your guys that knocked her off her broom last year!" Fred said.

"We'll agree to disagree on that. So, will the two of you get them for me? I'll wait here," Cassandra said.

"What do you want with them?" George said.

"The same I wanted with you, to see if they'll take these brooms. Hopefully they're not as foolishly proud as the two of you," Cassandra said.

"Wait," Fred said. "You're gonna offer them the same deal, one Galleon a broom? The price wasn't for our sake?"

"No, you git. I offered it to the two of you because we're friends, and because Lucius hates your family's guts. But I reckon any Gryffindor player will do," Cassandra replied. Only the last part was a lie. She would take a lot more enjoyment out of this deal if the brooms ended up in the hands of Arthur Weasley's sons; according to her grandfather, Lucius had complained about the man throughout the entire summer.

Fred and George looked at each other, communicating silently. "We'll take them!" They said.

"Brilliant," Cassandra smiled.

Just as the Halloween feast commenced that night, Cedric and Cassandra walked towards the Forbidden Forest together, Klaus flying above them to warn of any witnesses to their rule-breaking.

"Are you sure about this?" Cedric asked in a low voice when they reached the edge of the woods.

"Yes," Cassandra replied serenely, and entered the forest.

They walked along a narrow path leading southwest, watching their steps and ducking to avoid low-slung branches. Finally, they entered a small clearing ribboned with shadows, the flat ground covered with gnarled roots; enormous trees towered over them, filled with the glowing eyes of watchful creatures.

"It's perfect," she said.

The witch kneeled on the ground and carefully removed the necessary tools for the ritual from her bag, separating the mortar and pestle and potion ingredients; meanwhile, Cedric created an enchanted bonfire of black flames in the center of the clearing. They prepared the ingredients and set a cauldron over the fire; then added to it chopped asphodel roots, angel's trumpet petals, powdered iron, powdered moonstone and tincture of demiguise, stirring until the potion turned silver. Lastly, Cassandra sliced the neck of an augurey Klaus had hunted down while they brewed, and poured its blood in the cauldron while Cedric stirred it into the potion - they had rehearsed the ritual thrice in the past week, and their movements were fluid and synchronized. Once taken out of the fire and cooled, the resulting liquid was of a deep maroon colour. She poured it into a conjured silver chalice, drank half of it, and handed the cup to Cedric so he could drink the rest.

Immediately, she started shivering as though she'd just sunk into an ice bath, then a fluttering sensation spread from her stomach to the very ends of her fingers and toes. Her skin felt paper-thin, and suddenly her clothes were oppressively heavy on her body; her magic wanted to flow freely.

"We should undress now," Cassandra said.

Nudity was a natural part of many ancient magic rituals, practiced in the times when magic was not channeled through wands, but through one's body. Cassandra had discussed the possibility of it being needed with Cedric beforehand, but he still hesitated.

"I can turn around to give you some privacy," he offered.

Witches and wizards from pureblood lines that had refused to capitulate to Judeo-Christian Muggle beliefs were much less prudish than their counterparts. Instead of answering Cedric's question, Cassandra simply removed her robe, letting it fall to the ground. Next were her shoes, sweater, tie and tights. She watched Cedric's eyes following her fingers as she unbuttoned her shirt, took of her skirt, her undergarments. She stood in front of him, bare-skinned and unselfconscious.

"Your turn," she said.

Cedric blinked a few times, then proceeded to do as she had. Cassandra studied the planes and slopes of his naked form. He was beautiful - as beautiful as she could've ever pictured him; as anyone could be. With a sigh, she redirected her focus to the Samhain ritual she'd come to the Forbidden Forest to perform.

The effects of the potion were hard to ignore by that point: their skins had developed a greyish-silver glow, their body temperatures had dropped considerably, and they were both mostly numb to physical sensations.

"I feel…" Cedric started, but couldn't find the words he needed to complete that thought.

"I know," Cassandra said with amazement. "It's like being a spectator in your own body. Rationally, I know I should be cold; but I'm not. I can't smell the smoke coming from that fire or feel the earth and the roots beneath my feet. I can think, but I can't feel."

"How does it work?" Cedric asked.

"During Samhain, the veil that separates the world of the living and the realm of the dead is at its most permeable," Cassandra explained. "The potion does something similar to whoever drinks it - it temporarily blurs the line. We're not dead, but we aren't completely alive either."

"That's… incredible," Cedric said.

"By itself, it's a nice trick. What we're going to do with it, that's going to be incredible. Come on,"

The next step of the ritual required a runecaster to walk counter-clockwise along the edges of the clearing, carving runes on tree trunks with a silver blade.

"Rhaido," Cassandra murmured solemnly as she carved. "The rune of travel, that symbolizes the journey to the afterlife. It can be used to bind the dead to this world, but tonight we use it to free them. Perthro, that can provide or open a barrier to the realm of the dead, and make one confront their regrets one last time. Uruz, to strengthen a summons; eihwaz, for liberation from the fear of death; soliwo, for enlightenment and redemption."

After finishing the task, Cassandra contemplated her runework. In every tree she'd marked, she'd drawn the five runes at equidistance to form the shape of a pentagram. There had been no thought behind the action - it had simply felt right to; and looking at them now, she saw that it was. A shiver ran down her spine. Many wizards limited their magic to such mundane spells, they lost sight of the truly extraordinary things they could do; not her.

Silently, she offered her hand to Cedric, who interlaced his fingers with hers. Everything around her felt cold and numb, but Cedric's body temperature matched hers. In that moment, he was the only thing that felt real. She led them towards the center of the clearing where the enchanted bonfire still burned black, stopping to grab a small velvet bag and the masks she'd bought at Borgin and Burkes before the beginning of term. Hers was made of dragonhide, onyx black, and molded to resemble the long beak and feathered top of a raven's head; Cedric's was made of bone and had the shape of an animal skull from which two large spiraled horns protruded.

Once they had their masks on, she looked at Cedric again. She took in his naked body, the golden hairs on his chest and between his legs, the way the shadows cast by the black flames danced against the unearthly glow the potion had given to his skin, his eyes gazing at her from behind the beastlike mask.

"You look wild," he said, stealing the words from her mouth. He ran a knuckle softly over her jaw, took a lock of her dark tresses between his fingers and ran them down until the end of her hair, right against the curve of her hip. "Untamed."

"I love you," she said with conviction, staring into his eyes.

Cedric smiled sweetly, as if it made perfect sense that she had chosen this moment to say those words. "And I love you," he answered.

"Sometime soon, we'll make love," Cassandra said. "And it will probably involve a ritual circle, and runes, and it will attune our magic. I'll ruin you for anyone else."

"You already have."

Cassandra squeezed his hand, then turned to the enchanted bonfire. "After I end the first half of the invocation, you throw the bones into the flames."

Cedric nodded, and she started chanting:

"The harvest has ended, and the fields are bare.

The earth has grown cold, and the land is empty.

Death lingers over us, keeping a watchful eye;

it waits patiently, for eternity is theirs.

We call upon you, Death!

You who guard the afterlife,

and guide the dead on their final journey.

At this time of cold and dark,

we honour you, and ask that you come to us.

Help us guide the regretful spirits who once evaded you."

Cedric tossed the bones into the fire, suddenly the entire clearing was engulfed by flames. The Forbidden Forest was kept from burning in a furious black inferno only by the protective circle that surged as soon as the magic fire licked against Cassandra's runes. The flames were retreated to the bonfire, leaving charred soil and plants in their wake. If it weren't for the suspended state Cassandra and Cedric were in, they would've burned as well.

The fire was now burning pearl white, the runes in the trees glowing in the same tone. Cassandra closed her eyes and returned to her chanting, directing the magic coursing through her body and infusing it with her will:

"O great flame that burns so bright,

we ask you to be a beacon on this night.

May you light the path to rueful spirits,

that they come see what's ahead.

Shine until Death takes their hand,

and lead them to the afterlife.

With your light, bring them to us!

So we can give them peace;

so that they may take their final journey.

She heard Cedric gasp and opened her eyes. The clearing was now filled with dozens of ghosts, all staring at them.

"With what purpose do you call us here?" A glum priest asked. He took in her corvid mask and Cedric's animal skull and his face soured in distaste. "Are you Necromancers?"

"I have no interest in raising the dead," Cassandra answered. "You are here because instead of dying, you chose an impoverished simulacrum of life, and have come to regret your decision not to move on. You can't experience physical pleasure; your minds cannot evolve beyond what it was during your lifetime; and everyone you once loved is long gone."

"And ye mean to rub our noses in it, do ye?" A ragged man wearing shackles said.

"We mean to give you a second chance to move on to the next dimension. This is a Crossing Ritual," Cassandra said.

A beautiful young woman in a 17th century gown started sobbing. "I- I've been waiting for so long." The other ghosts turned to her, and she continued speaking through tears. "My mother used to perform these. For decades now, I've been waiting and waiting, but no one…"

"You have a chance tonight. In the night when the barrier between the land of the living and the land of the dead is at its thinnest, we've called for Death, and it has answered, and opened a pathway. Still, the choice is yours," Cassandra said.

"How?" A knight with a sword sticking out of his breastplate asked eagerly. "How do we cross?"

"We walk through the flames," the girl in 17th century garb said. "It's a temporary veil to the afterlife."

"How do we know you're not lying?" The ghost of an old woman asked. "This could all be a trick."

"I assure you we mean you no harm, ma'am," Cedric said reassuringly.

The crone still looked skeptical, Cassandra scoffed. "You're free to float back from where you came from. You wasted your chance at eternal peace once, it matters little to me if you waste it again. But what's the worst that can happen if you try? You're already dead."

"I'll do it," the ghost of the sobbing young woman said. "I want to, please. I miss mother, and father, and my aunt and cousins. I want to see them again, please."

Cassandra looked at Cedric, they took a step away from each other, leaving space for the ghosts to walk between them into the white fire. The young woman paused in front of them and started to cry again.

"Thank you. To both of you, thank you so much."

When the spirit passed through the flames without coming out at the other side of the bonfire, the ghosts started murmuring amongst themselves. They glided into the fire one by one, some with concern, others with obvious relief and even joy. What they all shared in their expressions, however, was hope.

In the end, only one spectre remained in the clearing, a gaunt ghost covered in silver bloodstains, carrying heavy chains.

"Baron?" Cassandra asked, recognizing her House ghost.

"You would be one of mine," the Bloody Baron said. His voice was low and raspy, as if it had gone unused for too much time.

"The corvid mask… Miss Lestrange? And I assume you are Mr. Diggory."

"Yes, sir," Cedric said.

"This ritual hasn't been done in these woods in a long time… too long," the ghost said.

"Do you wish to cross, Baron?" Cassandra said. "I'll explain your disappearance to the Headmaster, if so."

The Bloody Baron sighed wistfully, looking at the fire. "There is only one thing I wish more."

"What is it?" Cedric said.

"Atonement. I once committed a most disgraceful sin, for which I took my own life in regret. But the one I've sinned against has yet to find peace, and as long as she roams this world, so must I," The Bloody Baron said mournfully. "But let not my misery take away from the venerable feat of magic you performed today. In these troubled times, our House will need a witch like you to guide your peers, Miss Lestrange."

"What do you mean, in these troubled times?" Cassandra asked, curious.

"Forgive me, you must have been here for hours, of course you would not have received word of it yet. I'm afraid the Chamber of Secrets has been opened."

* * *

_A.N.: And we're back! Like Cedric and Cassandra in this chapter, I've also had a birthday recently. I turned [redacted] years old yesterday, so if you want to give me a present and can't afford a Nimbus 2001, please consider leaving a review. See you soon xx. _


	17. Part 2, Chapter 6

Cassandra was at the top of the Astronomy Tower, her favourite place at Hogwarts, sitting with her back against a wall and Klaus perched on her shoulder. She liked the spot because it was quiet and secluded, the long and numerous flights of stairs leading up to it making it unlikely she would have any unwanted company. For the last thirty minutes, she'd been trying to focus on her Occlumency exercises, to no avail. Every attempt to empty her mind of cursory thoughts in order to erect her barriers ended with her mulling over the same question she'd been pondering for the past couple of months: _What is going on?_

Nearly two months had passed since Samhain, and from the night the Chamber of Secrets had allegedly been opened until now, two muggleborn students, one ghost and one cat had been found petrified at Hogwarts. Some days, Cassandra believed she could smell the cloying stench of fear wafting in the air. Most students were terror-stricken, and even her fellow Slytherins were subdued. Sure, there was still plenty of posturing and speculation about the identity of the heir going on in their common room, but the conversations were filled with tension like Cassandra had never seen before. Despite the disdainful attitude of most Slytherins towards muggles and muggleborns, less than a tenth of all Hogwarts students - more likely half that humber - could actually claim to be purebloods.

A little over a year ago, Cassandra wouldn't have been distressed by the news of an ancient evil attacking students of muggle heritage at Hogwarts. It wasn't her job to ensure the personal safety of her peers, and she didn't have to worry about being a potential target, since she was able to trace her lineage through millennia. Then, her only concern would've been Adrian, and it wouldn't have been too hard to make sure her half-blood friend didn't walk around the castle alone. But now she worried about Cedric, and Neville Longbottom who was practically a squib, and Cedric's stupid Hufflepuff friends who were so nice to her. She needed to know who and what was behind the attacks, so she could protect her people.

"You know," she had said to Cedric one afternoon while they dangled their feet in the waters of the Black Lake, enjoying a rare sunny November morning. "I would sleep much better at night if I was still apathetic towards everyone in this school."

"But you're not," Cedric had said smugly, looking up at her from where his head was resting on her lap.

"And whose fault is that?" She had replied, the annoyance in her tone almost convincing.

Cassandra was not afraid, but she did feel a great unease.

The unpleasant thoughts of Cedric getting hurt put her on edge. She tried to quell her concerns by reminding herself her boyfriend had two magical parents, which made him pureblood enough for most, but she didn't know what standards Slytherin's heir or his monster had for blood purity. She detested being in this state of constant anxiety. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on something else, her mind strayed towards the message daubed on the wall during Samhain: 'Enemies of the Heir, beware.' She was.

She heard a bell ringing and got to her feet, hurried to her dorm room to pick up her trunk, then walked with Adrian to the crowded entrance hall. Panic was so widespread at Hogwarts, there had almost been a stampede to book seats on the Express so students could go home for the winter holidays. Outside, the horseless carriages that would take students to Hogsmead station stood waiting. Cassandra, Adrian, Cedric and his friend Mike Preece climbed into one of them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling its way down the track toward Hogsmead station.

"Thanks for letting me come with you guys," Preece said.

"Of course," Cassandra said absent-mindedly. She was thinking about her cousin Draco, and his decision to stay at Hogwarts for Yule. He had been strutting around school with his chest puffed lately, taunting others about the attacks, but she didn't know if that was only because of his general smugness and the pureblood supremacist beliefs he parroted from his father, or if he knew something she didn't.

She jumped on her seat when she felt someone kicking her shin.

"We're here," Adrian said to her, opening the carriage door.

"Are you okay?" Cedric asked her quietly once they were in their train compartment.

"Yes. Just thinking," Cassandra replied. She grabbed his hand and put his arm around her shoulders, resting her head against his side, he kissed her temple.

"So… are we talking about it?" Adrian asked after a while.

"Must we, Adrian?" Cassandra sighed.

"Talking about what?" Preece asked.

"The Chamber of Secrets," Cedric said to his friend.

"Oh. It's really a terrible thing, what happened to Justin. And Colin Creevey, the boy from Gryffindor. And Nick and poor Mrs. Noris," Preece replied, somber. "Do you think… do you guys think it's Harry Potter? The heir?"

"I definitely do, Lestrange doesn't, Diggory declines to comment," Adrian answered.

"I'd rather not pass judgement without having all the facts," Cedric said. "It's not fair."

"Come on!" Adrian said. "He was found with the bodies in two of the three scenes, and he's a parselmouth. It has to be him."

"It doesn't make sense, Adrian," Cassandra said for what it felt like the hundredth time. "He's gone against the Dark Lord twice now, he runs around with a muggleborn girl and a Weasley, and I told you I've looked at his lineage and he's no more a descendant of Salazar Slytherin than you."

"And he's a Gryffindor," Cedric offered.

"Maybe he's a dark wizard playing the long game. Hiding in plain sight," Adrian insisted. "Maybe that's how he managed to defeat you-know-who back then."

"He was one year old," Cassandra replied, exasperated.

The debate went on until the train pulled into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross station, by the end of it, no one had been any more or less convinced of anything.

"I'll see you here on the 2nd," Cassandra said to Adrian. "Mimi will deliver your Yule present."

"Thank you," Adrian said, pretending he couldn't see his parents waiting for him. "I'll need something to look forward to."

"There he is - Adrian!" Mrs. Pucey called out.

"Two more years," Cassandra whispered.

Her friend closed his eyes, took a fortifying breath and walked over to his parents.

"Babe, is that your grandfather?" Cedric said.

Cassandra was about to say of course not, that her grandfather always sent Mimi to retrieve her from the station, when she saw Cygnus Black III was in fact there, standing besides Mr. and Mrs. Diggory.

"Huh. That's odd," she said.

"God, let's go before my dad can do too much damage," Cedric said.

"Grandfather, Mr. and Mrs. Diggory," Cassandra greeted the adults.

"Ced, my boy!" Mr. Diggory said happily, pulling his son in for a hug. Cedric hugged him back heartily.

Mrs. Diggory smiled at Cassandra warmly. "It's wonderful to see you, dear."

"You as well, Mrs. Diggory. Is everything alright, grandfather?"

"Yes, Cassandra. I had some free time. Nice to see you, Cedric. You look well," her grandfather said.

"Thank you, sir. Nice to see you as well," Cedric said, shaking hands with the older wizard.

"My granddaughter informed me you participated on your first Samhain ritual with her. How did you find it?"

Cedric pondered the question. "Edifying, sir."

"Yes, I should think so. I hope you understand what a privilege it is to be part of a Crossing Ritual. I, myself, have never attended one. We haven't had a talented enough runecaster in the family for almost two hundred years," the Black patriarch said.

"Sounds like a very impressive ritual. You'll have to tell us all about it on Christmas morning!" Mr. Diggory said to Cassandra.

"Christmas morning?" She asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear, we meant to ask you first, of course," Mrs. Diggory replied. "Your grandfather said your Yule celebration happens on the evening of the 24th, so I extended an invitation to the two of you to spend the 25th with us."

"I won't be available, but I told them you're welcome to accept it," her grandfather said.

Cassandra looked at Cedric, who seemed pleased by the idea. "Sure. I would love to."

"Wonderful! We'll be expecting you around…" said Mrs. Diggory.

"Eight?" Cassandra tried.

"Eight would be perfect," Mrs. Diggory smiled.

When she steadied herself after arriving home via sidelong apparition, Cassandra turned to her grandfather. "How much would you pay me to convince the Diggorys to never invite you to anything ever again?" She asked with a grin.

"Name your price," Cygnus said, serious.

Cassandra chuckled.

"I missed being home," she said, looking around the foyer. Mimi would most likely be in her quarters, waiting for her.

"A lot has happened. We need to talk, child," her grandfather said.

"About the Chamber of Secrets business?"

"About that, yes. Other things as well."

Cassandra sighed. "Can have these discussions after Yule? I understand they are most likely pressing matters, but I could use one day to just… be."

"Tomorrow after we burn the Yule Log, then."

She nodded.

"There is only one matter I can't postpone. You may go to your room now, but find me in the laboratory before dinner."

"I will," Cassandra said, kissing her grandfather on the cheek and running upstairs. "Mimi, I'm home!"

Later, after Mimi had bathed her - "Mistress Cassandra will let Mimi scrub the Hogwarts filth off her!" - brushed and braided her hair, and they had lied down face to face on Cassandra's bed so she could share with her house-elf all that had happened to her while she'd been away, the young witch made her way to the topmost floor of Lestrange Manor.

Cygnus' laboratory was cold and dimly-lit, jars of ingredients and bottled potions filled shelves upon shelves, and carefully preserved age-old tomes could be found organized by author on a bookcase in the back of the room. The wizard brewed silently and methodically, not once looking up from the potion he was stirring, even though he was aware of his granddaughter's presence at the door. Used to his circumspect demeanor, Cassandra walked up to his side and peered into the cauldron, taking in the scent of fresh tobacco and rust stemming from it.

"Mandrake restorative draught?"

"It should be done within the week," her grandfather said.

Cassandra leaned her hip against the mahogany wood workstation. Providing the school with the healing potion that would restore the victims of Slytherin's heir to their un-petrified state would buy them a lot of good will. "Are we offering it to Dumbledore?"

"I believe you were the one who placed an embargo on talks of such matters for the day," he said in a slightly condescending tone.

Cassandra stared patiently at her grandfather's profile, and did not give him the rude reply she would've given anyone else.

"What I have discovered about the ongoing situation at Hogwarts makes any possible involvement on our part complicated," said the wizard, gravely. "I will tell you everything tomorrow, and we will decide together how to proceed."

She nodded. "What did you want to discuss, then?"

Cygnus finally looked up from his cauldron, meeting his granddaughter's eyes. He crossed his arms in front of his torso, seemingly bracing himself. Whatever he had to say wasn't pleasant. Instinctively, Cassandra crossed her arms around her middle, mirroring his posture.

"In light of what we know is coming in the future, I have been looking to secure a few strategic alliances. I am acting under the assumption this next war will feature the same players as the last one, and knowing now the Dark Lord is not dead, that seems to be a safe bet. The last time… I was not a soldier like your parents were. I was a financier, and I expect the same will be requested of me the next time around. But we both know you won't be able to escape the conflict. So we must ensure you walk into it in the most secure position-"

While he spoke, the words of the prophecy echoed in Cassandra's mind. "_Forced into battle, the war's greatest killer you'll become… Twice you'll lose your family, and twice you'll choose your targets in those you find responsible for the slaughter of your loved ones… Bound in a covenant, only death will undo the knot you join in."_

"-and since werewolves tend to be quite mistrustful, when he suggested a meeting tonight, I accepted it."

"Did you just say werewolves?" Cassandra asked.

"The time for you to be qualmish has long passed, Cassandra," her grandfather said firmly, mistaking her confusion for reproach. "You know werewolves were part of the Dark Lord's ranks during the war. All manners of beasts were. Werewolves, giants, hags. Anything and anyone who had reason to resent the establishment was seen a potential recruit. What was to be done with them after the war was won, that was another matter. But we certainly wouldn't have done what this Ministry has, which is nothing. Letting them live on the outskirts of civilized society, poor, violent, resentful, without prospects or purpose. All creatures, especially the dark ones, must have a purpose if they are to be kept from indulging in their baser natures."

Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle connected in her mind.

"You want their allegiance, the ones who survived. Greyback was never captured by the Ministry. You want them under our banner, so when the Dark Lord returns I have soldiers who'll fight for me. That's the purpose you want to give them."

"Yes, my child. If you must fight, you will not fight alone. I will see that you are protected."

"How do you plan to convince them to do that?" Cassandra asked, but she already knew the answer. "Wolfsbane potion. Money and wolfsbane potion. We'll supply them and get them used to a better life than they've ever enjoyed, and when the war breaks we'll convince them their best hope lies with us."

"With_ you_. You are the last Black, Cassandra. Andromeda renounced the family the moment she married, and in an entirely different way, so did Narcissa. I tried my best to exert some measure of influence on Draco's upbringing, but my attempts were fruitless. He's as much a Malfoy as his father is, as his mother chose to become. But you are a Black. A much better one than I or your mother ever managed to be. When I first stepped foot in this house knowing I would be the one to raise you, I made a vow to not repeat the mistakes I made with my daughters. I vowed to Death itself I would not corrupt your mind with the unyielding notions that led the House of Black to self-destruction. Seeing the witch you're growing into, I have no doubt I did the right thing, and what we know of the future only reinforces my belief. It matters not to me which side you will choose to fight for, because I know that no matter the outcome of this war, you will be the one to shape the world after it."

Cassandra was struck speechless at the fervor in her grandfather's eyes and the conviction in his words. "Alright," she said after a while, her resolve to be what he believed she could be solidifying. "Give me the details of the meeting we're having tonight, then. If I am to do all of that, I should probably get started now."

A quarter before midnight, Cygnus and Cassandra stood together at the foyer of Lestrange Manor, ready to apparate. The werewolves had been unwilling to meet with them face to face, and would be sending a wizard to represent them instead, a trusted associate of the pack. Cassandra checked over her boots, her nondescript black robes, her wand in the back pocket of her trousers, the piece of leather that held her hair in a single braid ending right at her lower back, making sure everything was as it should be.

"You know what to do," Cygnus said to her. "He might be dismissive and belligerent, and make ridiculous demands we are not willing to meet. If that is the case, I will reinstate our terms and we will leave. Do not engage him. The thousand galleons and batch of wolfsbane potion I am taking will demonstrate how serious we are, and they will come back with more reasonable terms once the money runs out."

Cassandra nodded. She held on to her grandfather's arm and closed her eyes, reopening them only when she stopped feeling the unpleasant effects of side-along apparition.

They were on the third floor of a decommissioned electrical substation in Lancashire. The building occupied an entire block, and had been abandoned since the 60s. According to her grandfather, the location had been used by Death Eaters during the war. What had once been an oval, spacious meeting room now looked like an abandoned, burned-out shell, as if all the hate and anger of the wizards who'd once dwelled there had turned to fire and smoke and stained the windows and concrete walls forever black. The smell of dust was overwhelming, and there was no light except for the white glow of the full moon that leaked through the sheer plastic that covered the windows.

There was a loud pop, and a wizard appeared in the room ten meters to their left.

If Cassandra had to guess, she'd say the man was in his seventies, about the same age as her grandfather. He was short, with grey hair and tired eyes. He seemed to startle when he saw her. "Mr. Black. I- I thought the agreement was we'd meet alone."

"This is my granddaughter. The talk we are having tonight concerns her as much as it does me, Mr. Balfe."

"I- please, Jude is fine," the man said, his eyes fixed on Cassandra. "May-maybe we should reschedule. The pack does not take well to change in plans. She's just a girl, she shouldn't be here for this."

"Nonsense, we will get right to it. I have the money and the wolfsbane potion with me, as a sign of good faith. You tell the pack there is more from where this is coming from. I have business interests abroad that have need of men of their talents. Overseeing deliveries, collecting payments, nothing too complicated. It is a most simple arrangement."

"Right, well. That seems agreeable. You can hand it over and we'll leave at once, I have somewhere I need to be."

Cassandra watched the man closely. The night was cold and still a bead of sweat ran down his forehead. He kept glancing at her while addressing her grandfather. They'd been expecting the pack representative to be defiant, belligerent even, but the wizard seemed… nervous. She felt something going cold in her gut.

"Something's wrong," she whispered to her grandfather. Cygnus didn't hear her. "Something's wrong," she repeated loudly.

Both wizards turned to her with surprise, and Mr. Balfe started trembling.

"You have to understand, you weren't supposed to be here. It was supposed to be your grandfather, just him," the man said.

Right then, the piercing howl of a werewolf echoed through the concrete walls of the abandoned building. Multiple howls answered the first call.

"What did you do?!" Cygnus demanded loudly, pointing his wand at the other wizard while looking around, trying to ascertain where the howls were coming from.

"I'm sorry, I didn't have any choice. They have my grandson. G-Greyback said they would kill him if I didn't do this. You shouldn't have brought her here."

Cygnus grabbed Cassandra's arm roughly and tried to apparate them away, nothing happened.

"Bring it down!" Cygnus yelled, blasting the other wizard from where he stood. He hit a wall and crumpled to the ground. "Bring the anti-disapparition jinx down NOW! Do you have any idea who you're dealing with? I will end you!"

"I'm so sorry," the old man cried out at Cassandra, grabbing what looked like a spoon out of his pocket and disappearing into thin air. A portkey.

The sound of snarls and paws hitting concrete jerked them into action.

"They're in the building," Cygnus said. He grabbed Cassandra's arm roughly, bringing her out of the room with him. He was looking for the stairs. "You have to make it out, do you hear me? No matter what, you get out. I should have known. I should've-"

"No, I am not leaving. We'll fight-"

"It's a full moon, Cassandra. They'll kill you or they'll turn you. There are six floors in this building, and the howling seems to be coming from below." Cygnus finally found the emergency door, opening and locking it behind them with a spell, and they started running up the flights of stairs. "You escape. You escape and you survive, do you hear me?"

A loud booming noise interrupted him. Something was slamming against the door they had crossed less than a minute ago. A shiver ran down Cassandra's spine. They climbed the steps even faster. With another boom, the horrific form of a werewolf broke through the door and launched itself at them. Cygnus and Cassandra fired spells at the same time. The werewolf dodged the green light of the killing curse that flew from Cygnus' wand into the path of Cassandra's entrail-expelling curse. The beast cried out when its intestines plopped on the floor from the large vertical incision across its middle. Still, it took another step in their direction.

"Caro Inflamare!_" _Cassandra shouted, setting the injured werewolf on fire. Another beast emerged snarling from the place the door had been.

"Go! I'll hold them back!" Cygnus said, firing spells at the creature. Cassandra hesitated, and he yelled again. "I SAID GO NOW! THAT'S AN ORDER!"

Cassandra started running. The noises of her grandfather's battle echoed up the stairs but she didn't look back. '_I have to get out,_' the witch repeated in her mind, holding her wand tightly in her clammy hand. '_I have to get out, I have to get out.' _She heard a visceral human scream and started crying as she climbed three steps at a time, as fast as she could. Her grandfather was dead, or as good as.

At the top of the stairs there was a metal door, which she guessed led to the roof. Not wanting to risk it being locked, she blasted it open with an exploding charm. The explosion threw her back a couple of steps, but she caught herself on the handrail. Her ears were ringing. Suddenly, she felt a piercing pain in her ankle as her feet were taken from under her. Her face hit the edge of a step and she cried out, feeling something breaking. Her orbital bone, probably. Unable to see clearly through her fuzzy vision and the blood pouring down her brow, she started firing blasting spells aimlessly, but even as her assailant jerked back it wouldn't let go of her ankle. She tried a severing charm and finally broke free. She followed it with another string of exploding charms. Satisfied the beast was dead, she wiped the blood off her eyes and propped herself up, limping to the roof.

She limped in a circle, trying desperately to think of a way to escape the rooftop as the cold wind whipped at her. Even if the anti-disapparition jinx didn't extend to the roof, she couldn't risk apparating without badly splinching herself, and a fall through six floors would likely wound her badly enough to make her easy pickings for anything still inside the building. After tripping on something, she decided she couldn't delay checking out her injured ankle any longer. Attached to her leg was a severed furry arm. It looked like a bizarre stage prop. She wanted to laugh, and to cry. '_Not a bite,' _she said to herself._ 'Not a bite, you're not a werewolf. Just a fucking paw.' _She bent down to dislodge the claws that had shredded skin and fat and muscle from her ankle with a small cry of pain, throwing it away.

When she stood back up, she found herself looking directly into the eyes of another werewolf. In a fraction of a second she registered the hungry look in its eyes, the fur matted with blood around its jaws and the bulge of its stomach, incongruous against its emaciated frame. The beast howled with the thrill of having its prey cornered.

Cassandra closed her eyes, thinking of everyone she might never see again, of her grandfather, her parents and Cedric and-

"MIMI!" She cried out.

With a crack, her house-elf appeared by her side. Mimi took in her Mistress' torn robes, her injuries and the werewolf lunging at them, grabbed Cassandra's hand and with a nauseating turn, they disapparated away.

As her world turned blurry Cassandra caught one last view of the rooftop of the abandoned electrical substation: of the door she'd blown open, and the trail of blood she'd left behind, and a blur of brown fur - _take us home, Mimi… Please take us home._.. She felt the heavy weight of her legs, the throbbing pain in her left eye, the blood still running down her foot from the torn flesh of her ankle. Her head jerked back, as if she were being pulled in another direction from her long braid, and she focused on the safety of her room.

And then her body hit a soft surface, as if landing on a cloud. She opened her eyes and felt an immense relief when saw she was in her bed. "Mi-"

But Mimi's bulging blue eyes were staring at her with horror. No. Not at her, past her. The witch turned around and screamed when she saw the werewolf had come with them, and was currently laying disoriented behind her. That's what she'd felt tugging at her braid. Cassandra tried to back away from it but accidentally put her weight on her injured leg, falling from the bed onto the ground. The werewolf shook itself, focusing on her again and let out a monstrous snarl. Cassandra dragged herself back by her elbows, trying desperately to locate her wand. She saw it was on the bed, right under the werewolf's hindlegs.

The beast pounced at her.

Then Mimi shouted, "The filthy mutt will not harm Mimi's witch!"

There was a loud bang, and the beast was thrown off-course. In a flash, it hit a wall and then leveraged its weight to lunge again, this time in the house-elf's direction. Cassandra could only scream and watch, horrified, as the monster sank its fangs into Mimi's small body.

'_NO!' _Cassandra wanted to shout, but she didn't have any control over her voice. While the werewolf mindlessly ripped Mimi apart, she crawled towards the bed, reaching for her wand. Just before her fingers closed around it, the werewolf grabbed her, sinking its claws deeply into her flesh, between her right breast and her clavicle, then hurled her at the other side of the room. She felt her ribs breaking when her back hit a cabinet and screamed in pain once again. She laid on the ground, surrounded by broken glass, blood spurting from the deep gashes on her chest forming a puddle underneath her right shoulder.

She felt like prey. Like meat. She turned her head to the side and came face to face with Mimi's mangled body. A hot streak of tears ran down her face, and the pain she felt for the only creature that had loved and cared for her from the moment she'd come into the world eclipsed everything else. She shouldn't have called for Mimi, good and sweet and devoted Mimi. She should've fought for her life in that rooftop by herself. From the edge of her vision she saw the werewolf - her grandfather's killer, Mimi's killer - standing right above her, and all the sadness was burned out of her. All there was left was bright, burning hatred.

With a snarl, the beast brought its claws down. Cassandra rolled onto her side and the werewolf's paw smashed on the floor, its claws embedding deep in the wood, centimeters away from her head. The beast snarled again, this time with annoyance, and yanked its arm back trying to free itself.

Cassandra used the oportunity to close her hand around a shard of glass and bury it with all her strength into the beast's groin; the werewolf hunched forward with a yelp of pain and surprise. She grabbed another piece of glass and stabbed the creature in the face repeatedly, trying to slash its eyes, its snout, its ears, whatever she could reach. The glass was cutting her own hand down to the bone, but she didn't care. She was delirious with pain and blood loss. She felt her arm being slammed against the floor, and involuntarily let go of her makeshift weapon when her wrist was shattered. With her good leg, she kicked the werewolf in the crotch, right where she'd buried the first shard of glass. It backed off her and curled on the floor, crying out in pain, but she knew it'd recover quickly.

She looked around for another weapon. Her wand was still on her bed. If only she could get up and grab it. But her body was too weak to respond to that command. She racked her brain for any kind of defensive move, anything that her grandfather or Ivanovich had taught her that might help her, but to perform any spell she'd need her wand. She recalled all the hours she'd spent this year trying to accomplish wandless summoning, with no success. But she had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted her wand right then, as she wanted a tool to fight back, to get revenge for her grandfather and Mimi.

She visualized her wand in its familiar place on her right hand and poured all her magic, all the anger, grief and pain she was feeling into her summons._ 'I need my wand. I need my wand, I need my wand, I NEED MY WAND. ACCIO WAND!'_

It was like a volcanic eruption, like something breaking open inside of her and releasing liquid fire into her veins. Her wand was in her bloodied hand. She knew immediately how to end this. When the werewolf crouched on top of her again, opening its filthy jaw to bite her, she took her wand from where she'd been hiding it underneath her and pressed it against the beast's throat, channeling her magic and willpower in the same way she'd done previously to force the beast to transform back into its human form with a homorphus charm.

A haggard young man with a gaunt face and an unkempt beard looked down at Cassandra, naked and confused. They locked eyes, and just as he'd had enough time to register the power behind what the witch had done and tried to move away, she clasped her legs around his waist to keep him in place and drew her wand across his throat with a single word in her mind: _'Diffindo'._

The blood pulsed out as the man grabbed at his neck, but Cassandra wouldn't let him go. The two rolled over, her on top, holding him down. The position was intimate, in the dark they could've been mistaken for lovers. The man thrashed violently, making one more try for freedom and the two of them rolled back around, him on top of her again. There was blood everywhere - on the floor, on the walls, all over her. Cassandra kept her legs wrapped around the man until he gave one last heave and died on top of her. She smiled, crazed and satisfied.

She pushed him off her and started trying to prop herself up. When she finally managed to stand up, a piercing pain in her chest made her knees buckle. Her head was spinning and she couldn't breathe.

"Hux," Cassandra called out weakly, and the elderly house-elf that had been serving the Lestrange family for three generations appeared in front of her with a crack. "I-" she tried speaking, but coughed out blood instead. "Take me- Cedric's house- I need- It's in-"

She couldn't tell what happened after that. She kept trying to breath, but with every breath came a fresh wave of pain, and she was choking on her own blood. The last thing she remembered was Cedric's stricken face, pale as a ghost, and his arms around her right before her world went black.


	18. Part 2, Chapter 7

Cassandra woke with a start three days after her attack, scrabbling at her front to push the werewolf away. Someone took hold of her hands, keeping her still. Then she heard a familiar voice quite clearly.

"It's okay, you're safe now. You're safe, Cassandra."

She felt a light touch to her forehead and tried to brush away the intrusive hand. She forced herself to calm down and opened her eyes, looking at her aunt blearily.

"What're you doing here?" she asked, closing her eyes again. She felt as if her head was full of cotton and the bed seemed to keep tilting backwards.

"You're my niece. Why wouldn't I be here?" Narcissa Malfoy replied.

"Mmfoy," she said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"'raitor," she insisted.

"All right. I'll go fetch the Healer."

"Go way," she said, then passed out again.

Hours later Cassandra opened her eyes again, staring at the shiny crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. After a minute she turned her head and became aware that she was in a hospital ward. She had a heavy headache and a dull ache in her shoulder. She closed her eyes.

St. Mungo's, she thought. What am I doing here?

She felt exhausted, could barely get her thoughts in order. Then the memories came rushing back to her. For several seconds she was seized by panic as the fragmented images of how she had nearly died came flooding over her. Then she clenched her teeth and concentrated on breathing.

She was alive. She didn't know how but she was alive — she just wasn't sure where she'd been. It took her a moment to decide whether or not she was happy to be there and what it all meant. A werewolf had tried to kill her, she was sure of that, but she was still alive.

She could not piece together all that had happened, but she summoned up a foggy mosaic of images from the electrical station and how she and her grandfather had tried to escape. Her grandfather. Was he alive as well?

She could not clearly remember what had happened with the werewolf that'd followed her to the Manor. She had a memory of looking into his human eyes and blood pouring out of his throat.

Suddenly she remembered having seen Cedric. Perhaps she had dreamed him, but she remembered a living room — it must've been the Diggorys' living room — and she thought she remembered him coming towards her. She must have been hallucinating.

The events of that night seemed already like the distant past, or possibly an absurd nightmare. She concentrated on the present and opened her eyes again.

She raised her hand and felt her right shoulder. There were bandages. Then she remembered it all. Nervous old man Balfe. Fenrir Greyback's betrayal. Mimi being torn to pieces. She had summoned her wand and performed the Homorphus Charm. She wouldn't have thought of it if it wasn't for Gilderoy fucking Lockhart and his stupid reenactments in class. That was why she was still alive.

She had been awake only a few minutes when a Healer noticed her.

"Hello, my name is Myrna. Do you know where you are?"

"St. Mungo's," she said hoarsely. The stench of the place was unmistakable. Like death and regrets and the sweaty odor of desperation. Not somewhere she would ever choose to visit, let alone stay. "Could I have some water?"

The Healer gave her a cup. As she swallowed the water she saw another Healer appear on her left side.

"Hello, Cassandra. I'm Hyppocrates Smethwyck. You survived a werewolf attack, you're at the Dai Llewellyn ward for creature-induced injuries. There is no need to be afraid."

She asked the question that'd been making her insides churn. "Was I bit? I fought the best I could but it kept… it kept coming at me."

"So you remember what happened."

"Was I bit?" she asked again, more forcefully.

"No, you were not. You were in bad shape when you were brought to us, but we trust you will make a full recovery. Unfortunately the scratches on your right shoulder and ankle will leave permanent scars, but there should be no loss of function."

She absorbed this information, relief washing over her. She was still human.

"And my grandfather? Is he alive?"

The Healer hesitated for a moment. "I should let your family come in so you can speak about that."

Cassandra's heart sank and her vision blurred with tears she refused to shed. Her grandfather had once told her it could be dangerous to ask a question when you already knew the answer.

"Who's out there?"

"I believe your aunts have been taking turns, as well as the young man who brought you in and his parents," Healer Smethwyck replied. "I'd like to examine you for a moment. Then I will send them in."

After examining her the Healers left, closing the curtains around her to give her some measure of privacy. She heard a door open. Footsteps then the silence returned, but it was spoiled by the knowledge she wasn't truly alone. She could hear the sound of quill scratching parchment to her right. Someone coughed to her left and she realized there were two of them. Strangers behind the curtains.

"Who is she?" asked a woman's voice.

"The Lestrange girl. Haven't you read The Daily Prophet? It's all over the papers," replied another woman. "A pack of werewolves kidnapped her, stashed her in some abandoned building in Lancashire. Her grandfather agreed to pay the ransom but instead of giving the girl back the beasts decided to keep the ransom and kill them both. They shred him to pieces, and a house-elf, and nearly her too. She barely made it out alive."

"Poor love, what a mess."

"It's karma if you ask me. Everyone remembers what her family did. What goes around comes back around."

Inside her head, Cassandra screamed. She threw the curtains open and started firing spells at the woman.

_Langlock. Ulcus Sanguis. Exosso. Mutatio Skullus. Confringo. _

She shouted those words over and over but they ignored her, because on the outside she was silent. On the outside she was balling her hands into firsts instead of reaching for her wand on the bedside cabinet.

She wanted to see them so she could know who they were. She wanted to sit up, reach out and strike the woman who'd spoken of her family. To hug the one that'd felt sorry for her. She wanted to feel something. Anything. Anyone.

The women left, closing the door behind them, but their words stayed. Cassandra considered them.

The version of events told by The Daily Prophet wasn't at all accurate, but she would stick to it. There was no love lost between her family and the DMLE. Were she to tell a tale of impending war and the prophesied return of the Dark Lord they would have her sharing a cell with her parents before she could say 'Veritaserum'. Nothing could be gained by collaborating with the Ministry.

More footsteps, a few whispered words, then her favourite aunt stepped through the curtains with her daughter in tow. She sat at the end of the hospital bed and Cassandra was so glad to see her, even if she had not come alone.

"Hello, dear. How are you feeling?" she said gently, holding Cassandra's hand. They looked so much alike. They had the same face, the same bearing, the same build. Only her hair was a light soft brown instead of Cassandra's ink black, and her eyes were wider and kinder. They could easily be mistaken for mother and daughter.

"I think I'm still in shock," she answered. "I thought I was going to die."

"Do you remember what happened yet?" Tonks asked from where she stood behind her mother. Her mother, not Cassandra's.

"Nymphadora," Andromeda chided. Tonks said nothing, but she looked sheepish.

"Bits and pieces," Cassandra said.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just wanted to hear how you're doing and make sure everything is going well."

She stayed silent. It should have been obvious that everything was not going well.

"The Healers say you'll be fit to go home tomorrow. We've been waiting for you to wake up, there are some things we need to discuss. Your grandfather..."

"I know," she said, looking away from her aunt.

She felt her hand being squeezed. She knew her aunt didn't grieve for the man who'd raised them as she did, but she had loved him once, too.

"Thank you for being here," she said after a while. "You too, Tonks."

Her cousin smiled at her in surprise. Her nickname was an olive branch, and the girl took it.

"Don't worry about it. It's not every day your little cousin kicks a bunch of werewolf ass and lives to tell the tale. You promise one day you'll tell me how you did it and we're even."

"Nymphadora, honestly," Andromeda said with exasperation, and both girls smiled.

"One day," Cassandra agreed.

"Is there anything you want? Anything you need at all, dear?"

She thought for a moment before speaking again. "How's Cedric doing?"

"Your young man has been worried sick about you. He didn't leave your bedside for days, until the Healers made him go home. Between you and me, I think he was driving them a little crazy."

"He loves me," she said. She thought about her grandfather and Mimi, the only ones whose love for her she had ever been certain of, and in that moment she didn't know whether that was a good thing or bad.

They talked for another half-hour, until her eyelids started to feel heavy and she drifted away.

When Cassandra woke up again Cedric's hands were holding hers. It felt strong and warm and safe.

"Hey," she whispered, not wanting to startle him.

"Hey," Cedric answered, sitting up on his chair. One of his hands left hers and came to rest on her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin softly. His eyes were full of relief. "You have no idea how happy I am right now. I love you so much."

He kissed her on the forehead and she felt his tears wetting her face.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere," she said, and again they looked at each other. He was crying and now she was crying. He kissed her and she felt real. This was real.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, and she laughed through her tears because he knew her well enough not to ask her if she was fine, and because she _was_ hungry.

"It's lunchtime and they left a tray of food for you not too long ago. I bet it's still warm."

He took the tray and put it down in front of her. There was chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans. A carton of juice and what looked like pudding. She was hungry but upon seeing what was on offer, was less eager to eat it. Cedric picked up the cutlery and loaded some mash onto a fork.

"I can do it," she said.

"Sorry."

She took the fork from him with a smile. "Thank you."

She ate most of it, chewing and swallowing small pieces at a time. It didn't look like much, but as she ate it felt like the best meal of her life. The chicken was overcooked and the potatoes were lumpy, but just to be able to eat and swallow and taste made every mouthful exquisite. Because it meant she was alive.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Cassandra shook her head and looked away. "Not here. Not yet."

He nodded.

"I'm sorry about Cygnus. And about Mimi."

Cassandra felt herself start to fade.

"They died for me," she said.

"They loved you. When I saw you… I would've done anything to save you."

She couldn't imagine how it must've felt, seeing her in the state Cedric did, holding her nearly dead body. She'd lived through a nightmare but Cedric had been trapped outside, forced to watch her live it. He had been through his own personal hell while she'd been unconscious. But it didn't seem to have changed things for him, not yet at least. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was for putting him through all of that and that she loved him too. She said the words over and over in her head until they sounded solid and real.

"I love you."

His eyes softened at that and he kissed her again.

Her last visitor of the day was her aunt Narcissa. The blonde woman stood at the edge of her hospital bed, perfectly dressed, perfectly poised. They stared at each other until older witch spoke.

"I trust you are feeling better."

"I am."

"You did very well."

Cassandra didn't know what she meant, so she didn't say anything.

"Fighting the way you did," her aunt said. "Your mother would've been proud. We're all proud of you."

Something loosened in her chest. Narcissa had been the aunt she was close to once, back when she was a toddler with fat cheeks and grubby hands, and her parents were too busy winning a war to pay her much mind. Narcissa had been much more maternal than her older sister, even before she was a mother herself, and her niece had been the main recipient of her motherly affection. It took a lot of love for Cassandra to hate her the way she did.

Not knowing what else to say, she invited her aunt to sit.

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been poking around since the night of the incident. Rita Skeeter has constructed a story that has seemed to appease the Ministry of Magic for the most part, but the Auror office has been most insistent on talking to you."

"I won't talk to them."

Her aunt nodded. "That would be wise. You should mind what you say in here as well; the walls have ears, and there is little Skeeter wouldn't do for a front page."

"I could always sic you on her."

The corners of Narcissa's mouth twisted up in a small smile. "However much I would enjoy that, I believe you are quite capable of handling her yourself, Cassandra."

There were a few beats of silence. She looked down and wiped away an invisible piece of lint from her lap. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now, with grandfather gone."

Her aunt came closer and tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, then raised Cassandra's chin so they were eye-to-eye again.

"You do the same thing you've been doing since you were a little girl. You keep your head high, and you forge ahead."


	19. Part 2, Chapter 8

When she looked back, even months later, Cassandra found she had only scattered memories of the next few days. It was as though she had been through too much to take in any more. The recollections she did have were upsetting. The worst, perhaps, was returning to Lestrange Manor after being discharged from St. Mungus.

Hux and Gibbo, the two remaining house elves in her family's service, had done an excellent job scrubbing her bedroom clean of blood and guts. Were it not for a few details — a missing perfume bottle that'd belonged to her mother, probably broken during the fight; a different Persian rug in place of the old one the DMLE had taken as evidence; a scratch on the back of her bedpost missed during repairs — she might've been able to pretend the room was the same as she'd left it every year going back to Hogwarts.

Cassandra thought of the blood soaking the hardwood floor underneath her broken body, painting it maroon. She thought of Mimi — the startling white of her spine jutting from her back, the stink of wild dogs filling the air. No amount of pretending could erase what had happened there.

She walked to the bathroom, popped open a vial of Calming Drought and drank the potion in one gulp. She ran her hands beneath the faucet, watched the water pour over her fingers until they stopped trembling.

For the first time in days, she looked at the girl in the water-speckled mirror. She watched herself pull the sleeve of her top down her right shoulder. The scars ran from the curve of her shoulder to just above the swell of her right breast, four angry welts parallel to each other, each about two centimeters wide. The scratches had been deep. She knew she ought to be thankful she hadn't lost the arm. The knowledge didn't make the scars look any less ugly.

"That looks ghastly, girl," the enchanted mirror tutted, sounding rather displeased.

"I know."

She put her sleeve back in place and focused on pulling her hair up in a sleek low bun. The severe precision of her center part highlighted the hollowness of her eyes. She looked malnourished, her cheekbones sharp as daggers. Her wounds had healed, but not without cost.

Without pulling out her wand or uttering a word, she summoned a bandbox from her closet. The simple charm took more focus and effort than much more complicated magic would have, were she using her wand.

It was well known that only the most powerful and disciplined wizards and witches could perform wandless magic reliably. It had taken her weeks to master nonverbal summoning, and before her almost death she had failed entirely to perform a summoning spell wandlessly, despite months of effort. She had always had the discipline, but it had taken a fight for her life for her to be able to summon the willpower necessary to channel her magic without a wand. The skill had saved her life, and no matter how much it drained her, she would continue to practice it until it came to her as naturally as breathing.

She opened the bandbox and took out the black fascinator stored inside, affixed it to the top of her head, brought its netted veil down to cover her face. The hat paired nicely with the black wrist-length gloves and the heavy dress robes she had picked out for herself. It was the costume of a pureblood witch in mourning.

Her grandfather's body would be laid to rest that afternoon. There wasn't a body to bury with Mimi, the numbskulls from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement having taken her remains as evidence. Cassandra did not know how the funeral would affect her, having never buried someone she loved before. She wondered if their deaths would be more real to her once it was over. Though she had moments when the horrible fact of it threatened to overwhelm her, there were long stretches of numbness where she found it difficult to believe they were really gone.

"It's nearly time," she said to herself a while later, and called for a house-elf to apparate her.

The Black family mausoleum stood magically hidden among the trees, shrubbery and wildflowers that had grown over the wealth of gothic tombs, buildings and memorial statues that made up the burial place known by muggles as Highgate Cemetery, in north London. The entire structure was constructed of black granite, with beautiful leaded glass windows overlooking the crypt. Across the front of the building, a name plate contained the family name and date of birth and death of all members of the House of Black entombed there, their family motto engraved above it — TOUJOURS PUR.

Cassandra ran her gloved hands across those words, mapping them out with the tip of her fingers. The phrase had been such a constant in her life, she couldn't remember the first time she'd heard it, or had its meaning explained to her, back when she was too young to retain any knowledge of French. It meant: Always pure.

Her blood might be pure, but her body no longer was. Her skin would forever be marred, scars from cursed wounds never faded. '_Toujours pur, souillé à jamais'_, she thought bitterly. Always pure, forever sullied.

Crossing the mausoleum entrance, she felt the magic inlaid in the building like a live thing. It was defensive magic, hostile and dangerous to anyone who oughtn't be there, cast and reinforced by generations of Black witches and wizards. It recognized her, just as she recognized it.

She took her place before his grandfather's tomb, standing poised in wait of the other mourners.

Narcissa Malfoy arrived minutes later, Lucius and Draco in tow. Even in repose the blonde witch was a standout, a lily among the reeds, black sunglasses shielding her eyes. They held each other's stare over the body of the man who raised them. Neither of them were in tears.

A little tufty-haired wizard in plain white robes intoned the traditional funeral platitudes. As the sound of his voice rose and fell, Cassandra heard only snippets, her mind far away. "Family man"... "pillar of the community"... "what it means to be a wizard"... It didn't matter. Those words meant nothing coming from someone who hadn't known Cygnus Black.

A breeze wafted past Cassandra. She turned her face to face the mausoleum's open brass door, closed her eyes. When she opened them, she saw something she didn't expect: a man, alone on the hillside looking straight at the funeral party. He was standing quite still, hands shoved deep in his pockets. That he could see them meant he was magical. Cassandra squinted, trying to get a better look, but from this distance the man's features were a blur, indistinct. Someone cleared their throat by her side, loudly. She turned to look and was met by Lucius Malfoy's reproachful stare. When she turned back, the man was gone.

"... Let us bow our heads..."

Cassandra bowed her head with everyone else, but her eyes remained fixed on the empty hillside.

After the ceremony ended, Cassandra had one of her house elves take her to Ottery St. Catchpole. The Diggorys had been insistent on checking in on her, and she had promised to visit them as soon as she could.

"Cedric, she's here!" Mrs. Diggory called out when Cassandra appeared on their doorstep. The handsome witch smiled warmly at her. "It's so good to see you. I'm so glad you've come."

"It's good to see you as well," she said. To her surprise, she meant it.

Mrs. Diggory stepped back from the doorstep, Cedric quickly taking her place. Before Cassandra could say anything, he had her enveloped in a hug. She wanted to hug him back, but her arms felt like they were made of lead, hanging limp and heavy at her sides. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of his hands on her back instead, the pleasant scent of soap and boy she could pick up where her nose was buried in the hollow of his throat. Little by little she felt her body relaxing against his.

"We should step inside, mum's probably got tea waiting for us by now," he said softly, rubbing gentle circles between her shoulder blades.

She nodded without lifting her head from his chest. It was rude to keep his mother waiting. But they didn't let go of each other.

"Okay," Cassandra whispered after a while, bracing herself. "Okay," she repeated and pulled away from his arms.

She followed him into the house, closing the door behind them. It was a modest stone cottage surrounded by a cluster of small hills, neat and cozy. A nice place to grow up in. There were bright orange geraniums planted on the windowsills, and outside the front door lay a mat that read 'Home Sweet Home'.

A whitewashed wooden table and matching chairs dominated the kitchen. There were several cookbooks on display on a shelf, and a pretty but unremarkable landscape that seemed to have been painted by a talented amateur hung on the wall. It was a room meant for family, unlike the large, white-tiled kitchens Cassandra was used to, the kind meant for staff. She took a seat at the dinner table and Cedric sat by her side, putting his arm around her chair. Mrs. Diggory didn't pay them any mind as she finished setting the table for afternoon tea with casual flicks of her wand.

"Where's Mr. Diggory?" Cassandra asked for politeness's sake. She lifted the netted veil that covered her face, removed her gloves and placed them on her lap.

"Oh, Amos's at the Ministry. Work emergency," Mrs. Diggory said. Satisfied with the results of her work, she finally took a seat across from the two teenagers. "Please, help yourself, those scones are blueberry."

"Thank you," "Looks lovely, mum," they said at the same time.

While the teapot floated around the table pouring them all tea, Cedric busied himself tipping three or four savones onto his plate, then onto his girlfriend's. He did the same with the scones and muffins in front of them. A week ago Cassandra would have smiled and maybe kissed his cheek for his thoughtfulness, but the idea of doing that same thing now was overwhelming, and she found it easier to stare at her plate and avoid his gaze entirely.

With graceful, practiced movements, she picked up the saucer holding her teacup, placed it in the palm of her left hand and moved it forward to rest on her fingers, which were slightly spread apart, steadying the saucer with her thumb resting on the rim. She held the teacup with her right index finger through the handle, her thumb just above to support the grip and her second finger below the handle for added security.

"_It is an affectation to raise your little finger, even slightly,_" she suddenly remembered the sour-faced etiquette tutor from her childhood croaking at her. Merlin, how she'd despised the crone, even at six years old. She'd even glued her perpetually pursed lips shut in a bout of accidental magic once during one of their lessons. Mimi had had to fetch Cygnus from his lab to reverse the spell, and instead of punishing his granddaughter for her mischief, the wizard had remarked upon the strength of the magic she'd performed, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. He'd been proud of her.

And then, as she finished reminiscing, without warning, the dreadful truth swept over her, more completely and undeniably than it had until now. Cygnus was dead, gone... And so was Mimi. She pressed down the hurt blooming inside her chest, willing it to subside, blinking rapidly to keep herself from crying. The world had no use for her tears. There would be no waking from her nightmare, and words of comfort would change nothing; the last and greatest of her protectors had died, and she was more alone than she had ever been before.

"Cassandra," Cedric said in an undertone, rousing her from the reverie in which she was sitting with glazed eyes. Both Diggorys were looking at her with identical frowns of concern. She realized her hands were trembling again.

"Could I bother you for some firewhisky, Mrs. Diggory?" she asked a little shakily. "For medicinal purposes."

Mrs. Diggory startled at the request, then her expression softened. "Of course, dear. I suppose if any fifteen year old has ever earned the right to some Blishen's, you have."

She summoned a bottle of firewhisky from a kitchen cabinet, uncorked it and poured some in the girl's teacup, as well as her own, passing over her son's without comment.

Cassandra thanked her and drank.

The liquor warmed her throat. It seemed to set her insides aflame, burning away the pain and sense of hopelessness, filling her with something akin to calm.

"I wanted to apologize. For coming here that night."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Cedric said at once.

"I should've gone to St. Mungus. I had no right to drop in on you in that state."

"I don't blame you, Cassandra." Mrs. Diggory assured her. "I understand you didn't… You didn't feel as if you had anyone else to go to."

She could've snorted at how pathetic that made her sound. And yet it wasn't far from the truth. Had she gone to the Malfoys or the Tonks, her aunts would've done their very best to keep her alive, but her choice would be perceived as a declaration of… something, by her blood relations as well as outsiders. Knowing what she did about the future, she wasn't prepared to pick a side just yet. But politics wasn't why she had come to the Diggorys that night. She'd thought she was going to die, and had wanted to see Cedric one last time.

She felt another pang in her chest, and poured some more tea for something to do, topping it with a dash of firewhisky. As she drank, she inched her knee closer to her boyfriend's until they were touching. A small gesture, and the biggest one she could muster then. He turned his head to look at her and without meeting his gaze she pressed against him a little more firmly, willing him to understand. _I'm sorry. I need you. I love you._ He squeezed her shoulder, quick and reassuringly, and she chose to believe he had.

"Has the matter of your guardianship been settled yet?" Mrs. Diggory asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the table.

"I have until the end of term to decide between my aunts or choose another magically-capable adult."

"That's good, that they're giving you some time to think it over."

Cassandra nodded. She had fought for the right to choose her own guardian once, back when she was a little girl young enough to be molded into someone else's vision of what the last standing Lestrange heir ought to be like. She'd been a prize worth fighting over then, unconquered territory. It had been the calling card of skepticism plus a childish instinct to take her parents' every word as gospel that had made her distrust the Ministry and won her the privilege of choice. Now that same privilege felt more like a burden.

"I don't mean to overstep, but I want you to know you can count on us for anything you need," Mrs. Diggory said. Her tone was careful, neutral, but her eyes showed she was brimming with compassion.

"Thank you," Cassandra said, not knowing how else to respond.

"Right. I'll go tend to the garden and give the two of you some time alone. Be good."

"We will, mum."

There was a beat of silence after Mrs. Diggory left the kitchen. Cassandra could see the gears turning inside Cedric's head. It was in his nature to try to support and comfort others through their struggles, and he'd been working overtime with her recently. It made her feel grateful and ashamed.

"You want to go up to my bedroom? You can see the really cool Ballycastle Bats poster I got when I was 12. It really brings the whole room together."

She shook her head and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm a Magpies fan."

He put his arm around her. "Right. How could I've forgotten that."

"Can I help?" he asked softly. "Can I do anything?"

She shook her head again and Cedric hugged her even closer to him.

"We're going back to school tomorrow. Maybe it'll be good for you. You'll have plenty of things to distract yourself with, take your mind off all of this. We can practice quidditch every day, we'll go into the Forbidden Forest to search for unicorns again if you want to. I bet Klaus misses you."

She nodded, thinking about their return to Hogwarts. She would have to act normal, pretend nothing had happened. But Cassandra knew that wouldn't be a problem. She'd been doing it her whole life.


End file.
